


Better to Reign in Hell than Serve in Heaven

by itallstartedwithdefenestration



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, a bit of dub-con in later chapters, also Pepper is extremely OOC, also a lot of Shakespeare references and other things that are culturally awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 57,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithdefenestration/pseuds/itallstartedwithdefenestration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frostiron. College AU. Loki and Tony dated their junior and senior years of high school, but broke up after Tony cheated at a dance. When their sophomore year of college starts, they are forced to speak again, as Loki is assigned to be Tony's roommate. And neither of them wants to admit that he secretly is looking forward to it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black

In the beginning, as is usual with beginnings, everything worked out.

Loki Laufeyson and Tony Stark hung out with the same crowd—intelligent kids, the ones who wanted to major in physics or astronomy or both in college; not popular exactly, but smart and witty enough to earn respect from everyone else in the school. When they started dating, no one was surprised—they had the fastest brains out of their crowd, and their constant banter could have been considered flirting—not that anyone would have ever said it to either Loki or Tony's face until after they announced they were a couple. And it was nice to see them finally happy, nice to see Tony loop his arm around Loki's waist when they walked down the hallways together, nice to see them sitting as close as is physically possible in the library, their legs twined under the table, Loki's long dark hair splayed out over Tony's shoulder as the older teen carded his fingers through its greasy, soft strands. When they went to Starbucks after school with the group for a drink, Loki would always order for both himself and Tony, who would then pay for their drinks and any pastries they may have gotten.

They fought, of course, because they were Tony and Loki, and they were going to fight whether they were best friends or fucking each other's brains out, but usually by the end of the week whatever it was had resolved itself, and one of their group—usually Steve, the history buff who was so innocent it could have been labeled adorable—would walk in on them in a deserted classroom, heavily making out, one of them bent backwards over a desk while the other worked quickly at his belt buckle.

So in the beginning, it was good. Tony and Loki—an entity unto themselves, a couple so well-known throughout the school that the students did not say one name without immediately adding the other—were happy together, and if, as their junior year melted into summer and then into senior year, their group started noticing that the fights were getting more and more vicious and there was often very nearly visible tension between them during study sessions or at Starbucks after school, none of them said anything. Loki continued to give Tony back massages at football games and read Shakespeare to him in the back of the library when they thought no one was listening. Tony continued putting bags of candy in Loki's locker and wearing his green button-down shirts to school on Mondays, letting the world know who he'd spent the weekend with. (As if Steve and the others didn't hear enough about it from Thor, who complained that his brother and Tony were too loud at night but that Tony was good enough competition at Call of Duty to be forgiven.) The fighting, that was nothing. Just hormones. It would pass.

But then the Christmas dance happened, and everything got shot to hell. The perfect beginning, which had fallen into a slightly damaged middle, came to an abrupt and shattered ending which left everyone shocked and confused—although Natasha, when pressed, would admit she was not entirely surprised.

No one knew exactly what had happened at the dance, only that it had involved a very drunk Tony Stark suddenly appearing half naked from behind the bleachers, while a red-faced Loki Laufeyson screamed obscenities at him—and the girl he was with. Tony put his hand on Loki's shoulder, Loki shrugged it off, called the girl a slut, then hit Tony as hard as he could across the face. They threw punches until the principal stepped in, separating them, forcing them outside. The group knew better than to follow—not even when neither of them came back in the gym for the rest of the night—but by the following Monday, it was official: Tony and Loki were no longer together; they weren't even speaking. Loki separated himself gradually from the group, despite Thor's protests—by the time they graduated in June, Loki was an outsider, and Tony had made all the appearances of moving on.

They all ended up going to the same college—Tony and Bruce majored in physics, Steve in history, Thor in Greek mythology, Clint and Natasha in astronomy, and Loki in linguistics and literature. Although they were not on speaking terms with him anymore, they tried being civil to him in passing—except Tony, of course, because he had Pepper now, and he'd brutally murder anyone who even suggested that he occasionally looked at Loki with an expression in his eyes of such desperate longing that he appeared to be crying.

Freshman year passed by silently and swiftly and with a ghost of heartbreak on its shoulder. And then sophomore year started, and everything changed. Again.


	2. Stranger in a Strange Land

Tony knows it's going to be a long day when he wakes up in a tangle of sheets, his boxers hanging halfway off his hips, to the sound of his father yelling up the stairs, "Get a move on, Anthony, I want you out of this house as soon as possible!"

"Fuck off," Tony grunts into his pillow, without opening his eyes. It's almost the beginning of his sophomore year at college—they start tomorrow, but have to be at the building by tonight so they can get comfortable in their dorm rooms and review their schedules—and he's still living at home because Pepper's family won't let her move into an apartment with him, and Howard is smart enough to know that Tony living alone would be a national disaster.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs jerks Tony out of the suspended state of reality brought on by sleep. He yanks the covers around his waist, but Howard's already opened the door and seen the tattoo, and oh Jesus, Tony's fucked.

"What's that?" Howard asks, his eyes narrowed, finger pointing at his son's hip.

"It's ink, pressed into my skin by a sharp, hopefully sterilized needle, in the shape of the Black Sabbath devil logo," Tony replies sarcastically, because anything he says after this point isn't going to help his situation, so why bother with reasoning?

Howard's hand comes flying out and hits Tony straight across the face, hard enough to make his head jerk sideways. "If there is one thing I will not tolerate in this house, boy, it's insolence," he snarls, reaching down and yanking the covers off Tony's legs. "Get dressed, get your shit, and get out."

Not for the first time, Tony feels an overwhelming urge to strike his father back, to let him know how it feels to be degraded like that. He reaches up and rubs absently at his skin, which is still throbbing; runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek and tastes blood. How satisfying it would feel to spit it into Howard's face, how utterly satisfying.

"Get a move on," the elder Stark says, before turning and storming out of his son's bedroom.

Tony waits until he hears the front door slam downstairs before he goes into his closet and starts riffling through his clothes, trying to figure out how many he needs to take to college for one semester without ever having to wash them more than once a week. His hand lands on his favorite shirt—faded and soft with age, it's a promotional shirt for Black Sabbath's _Master of Reality_ album—and he pulls it off the hanger and onto his body.

He's gotten jeans on and is pulling out a few more shirts, pants, and one suit, when he hears voices downstairs. Pepper and his dad, from the sound of it, and he rolls his eyes—Howard's obviously into Tony's girlfriend, which goes beyond the borderline of fucked up, and she's never actually _done_ anything with him (as far as Tony knows), but she flirts with him—sort of—and it's weird. It's not like it was when he was dating Loki—not that he thinks about that very often or anything. When he was dating Loki, Howard made it very obvious that he disapproved, both of his son's sexuality and his choice in partner, which made it that much more appealing. But Pepper's been stamped with the Howard Stark Seal of Approval, and Tony gets the feeling that if he doesn't propose by the time he's twenty-one, his father will.

He hurriedly yanks a few more shirts and pants off their hangers and shoves it all into his duffel bag, along with a wad of cash and two packs of cigarettes—not that he hasn't been telling himself he'll quit for almost two years now, but he'd prefer to have them on his person than have to suffer through nicotine withdrawal during a lecture. Then he hoists the bag over his shoulder and heads downstairs, running his fingers through his hair as he goes, trying to tame it.

"Ah, there he is," says Howard, and Tony doesn't miss that sneering sarcasm in his tone. "Your lady was ready before you were, Anthony."

Pepper's cheeks are almost as red as her hair as she walks up to Tony and kisses his cheek. "Hmm, hi, Tony," she says. And really, she's not a bad person, and sometimes Tony feels almost bad about using her to try and prove that he's straight, so he smiles at her and kisses her cheek and squeezes her hand.

"Ready to go, Pep?" he asks, and she nods. He looks at his dad, expecting some sort of farewell, maybe an awkward side hug, but all he gets is:

"Don't fuck up this semester; I'm expecting all A's on your midterm report card," and then Howard's walking out of the room, one hand already wrapped around a bottle of scotch, the other digging into his pants pocket for his cell phone. Tony feels a brief stab of pain in his chest and a bitter taste lingers at the back of his mouth as he swallows down what he wants to yell after his father.

But Pepper's there, and it's time to go, and there isn't any point in dwelling on the facts of Tony's life which he can't change, so he heads out with her, and pretends as he loads up his car and prepares to drive off to the college that he isn't wishing it's still Loki standing next to him, even after two years.

/

"Loki!" Thor bellows up the stairs, and Loki can imagine his brother standing there with his bags clenched in his huge hands, his blond hair perfectly combed like it always is, face red as he yells. "Hurry up, brother, or we'll be late!"

"We live about five minutes away from Berkeley," Loki calls back, running his fingers over a green-and-silver tie before placing it in his bag. "We aren't going to miss anything."

A shadow falls across his lap, and he looks up in surprise to find his father standing in the doorway. A frown creases the space between his eyebrows, making the eye patch all the more foreboding. "Do not try my patience," he snaps. "Not today, of all days."

Loki grits his teeth and wonders again why Odin won't just let him and Thor go live on their own in the city somewhere. Frigga is completely for it, because who wouldn't want to have two less mouths to feed during the holidays? Also he's kind of getting sick of having to live with a family which, technically, isn't even his. He's known he was adopted since he was sixteen, taken his biological father's surname the summer before his junior year, but recently it's begun getting to him. He supposes it's the constant fights he's been having with Odin ever since he graduated high school—Odin wants him to go out, be social; _"just because that Tony couldn't control his dick doesn't mean you have to become a recluse"_ , but Loki's not being antisocial because of Tony. That's not even close to the reason, no way, he just prefers solitude, and fuck you if you think any differently. That and the fact that Thor is still friends with everyone and has them over all the time when they're home from college is really putting Loki off. If they could move into their own apartment, Loki could just stay in the basement all the time, and no one would ever have to bother him again, or be bothered by him, because Loki knows he's an annoyance.

Why the fuck else would Stark have cheated?

A car horn honks outside, and Loki knows without looking that it's Natasha and Clint coming to pick them up. He finishes zipping up his duffel and stands, brushing invisible flecks of dust off his pants. He locks his moss-emerald eyes onto Odin's good one and snarls:

"Have a nice fucking rest of the year without me."

Odin's slap, when it comes, is quick and completely expected, but Loki still flinches.

"Don't use that language in front of me. Go downstairs with your brother and try not to make a mess of things this year."

"Whatever." Loki rolls his eyes and pushes past his father, going down to join Thor, who is positively bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

"Brother!" Thor exclaims when he sees Loki, and then his face falls as his eyes come upon the reddening mark on his cheek. He opens his mouth to say something, but Loki just shakes his head and walks to the door. With an effort, he manages to keep the shaking in his voice to a minimum as he says:

"We'll be late, Thor, come on," and heads out to Clint's car. (Well, technically it's Natasha's car now, because Clint lost it in a bet to her last summer, but no one is allowed to mention it around him and it doesn't really make a difference anyway since they're living together.) Clint waves, and Loki immediately cuts his eyes to the driveway, duffel bag bouncing against his leg as he walks. He can't believe he used to hang out with these people. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Natasha looking at him with her head tilted to one side, but he doesn't react, just tosses his bag into the open trunk and slides into the backseat.

A moment later, Thor is thundering out of the house, tossing his bag alongside Loki's, diving into the seat beside his brother with a huge grin on his face. "Are we going to pick up Steve and Bruce before we go?" he asks.

"Nah, they've got their own rides," says Clint, backing out of the driveway.

Natasha glances at Loki again as they go along. He's got his head pressed against the window and is staring blankly out at the scenery. There's a reddish mark on one side of his face, and Natasha opens her mouth to ask, but then she catches Thor's eye and he shakes his head. He looks sad, sadder even than Loki, and it breaks Natasha's heart—not that she'd ever admit it.

They arrive at Berkeley twenty minutes later—traffic will never not be a bitch in Manhattan—and Clint circles the parking garage, trying to find an empty space and wishing that they had their parking passes already, because what's the sense in coming to college a day early if they aren't even going to give you your pass for a whole week? As he goes up, they pass a familiar black Porsche with the license plate 'T STARK' and a bumper sticker reading 'have you kissed a physics major today?' They all glance, half subconsciously, at Loki, but he's not looking at the car, he's looking at Tony, who's walking down the slope of the garage with Pepper hanging off his arm like a trophy, keys dangling from his fingers, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The muscles in his throat constrict downward, and for a second they all think Loki's going to roll the window down and call something, but he just slumps lower in his seat, casting his eyes upwards and folding his arms across his chest.

Thor, Natasha, and Clint exchange glances, and Thor sighs heavily.

It's going to be a long year.


	3. How to Disappear Completely

They all head to the college entrance together once Thor, Clint, Natasha, and Loki have caught up with Tony and Pepper. They're all talking and laughing, except Loki, who's hanging back, his duffel bag hitting his leg occasionally as he takes long strides. It's like that until they get to a red light, and then there's a lull in the conversation, and Tony's searching for something to say—because no one holds an audience better than Anthony Edward Stark—when suddenly Pepper twists slightly to look around Thor's broad shoulders and says, in a pseudo-sweet voice:

"So what are you majoring in, Loki?"

Tony winces, because he recognizes that tone as one of 'I'm condescending to speak to you, so you'd better be grateful'—Pepper was a varsity cheerleader in high school and she hasn't really gotten over it, no matter what she tells everyone—and wonders how much society would disapprove of him slapping a strip of duct tape over her perfect lips until they get inside. Natasha's eyebrows shoot up, because Pepper actually has no idea that Tony and Loki have a _history_ together, and that Loki probably hates her more than he hates anyone else. Thor purses his lips together, and Loki casts his eyes up from the ground, lifting his chin slightly, letting her know he's rejecting her superiority in the situation.

"Linguistics," he says, coolly.

"What's that?" Pepper asks, and Loki briefly glances at Tony, making eye contact just long enough to communicate ' _this_ is the sort of person you left me for?'

Natasha and Clint are muffling their laughter behind their hands.

"You're, uh… dating Tony, aren't you?" There's a smirk on Loki's face now, and the billionaire's son guesses that whatever's coming next is going to sting, but Pepper just replies in the affirmative, her own smile looking more and more forced as the seconds tick by.

"He's a physics major," says Loki, "isn't he?"

"No kidding," says Pepper, looking at Tony and rolling her eyes, but he doesn't roll his back. He's staring at Loki, and he knows what's coming now, can see it in his ex's eyes, and goddammit, he wishes he had some duct tape…

"How the fuck does the definition of 'linguistics' escape you, then?" Loki asks, still smirking.

Clint and Natasha are laughing outright by this point, Natasha kicking Clint in the shin with her Doc Martens from time to time to try and shut him up, then wiping the tears out of her eyes and breaking down against his shoulder all over again. Thor is frowning at his brother, disapproving, and Tony is red-faced, though whether it's out of embarrassment or anger is unclear. Pepper still looks confused, but after a few seconds, manages:

"Tony's dad says I'm the smartest person he's ever dated."

A shadow crosses Loki's face at that, but it's gone a second later, and Tony's figuring he can just pretend he never saw it.

"I'm sure Tony's enthralled to hear you extolling on Howard's opinion of you, rather than his own," he replies, and Natasha and Clint have to sit down for a moment in the grass, all efforts to maintain a sense of dignity completely gone.

Pepper opens her mouth to reply, but suddenly Thor exclaims, much too loudly, that the light's turned green and they can cross now. As they walk, Tony slips away from Pepper to Loki, who's hanging back again, silent now. His jaw is clenched.

"What the fuck is your problem, Laufeyson?"

Loki's eyes slide over to him, and a bitter smile taints his lips for a second. "Don't you think you're lowering your standards quite a bit by fucking someone like her, Stark?" he asks. And then, before Tony can reply to that, he adds, "Why don't you go clarify to her that chicks aren't the only sentient beings you've stuck your dick into?" And then he's walking away, heading up to talk to his brother, and Tony's left in the back with a burning sensation in his chest, and he can't tell if it's anger or just annoyance.

/

The sign-in room of Berkeley is pretty crowded, but the group still manages to find Steve and Bruce waiting for them, lounging against one of the brightly painted walls. Steve's smiling cheerfully, though his expression does become slightly strained when he notices Loki, and the way he's looking at Tony, like he can't decide whether he wants to kill him or fuck him senseless. They all manage to bypass the lines because one of the guys giving out schedules and dorm assignments is Phil Coulson, Steve's best friend and possible future boyfriend—though no one can really tell, since Phil's kind of shy and awkward about dating and Steve likes to 'take it slow' when it comes to asking people out—and then they're heading off to a quieter part of the room and comparing cards.

"We're all in the same dormitory!" Thor bellows after a few seconds, looking delighted.

"Oh, god," Loki mutters, running his fingers through his raven-black hair and rolling his sharp emerald eyes. Tony glances at him, but his gaze is trained on his card.

"What room did you get, brother?" Thor continues his ecstatic ramblings, slinging an arm across Steve's shoulder—Steve, who is apparently destined to be Thor's roommate and the victim of many late-night rounds of Assassin's Creed.

Hoping to god that his room is nowhere near the blonde's, Loki mutters, "Three seventeen."

Pepper, who is looking at Tony's card instead of her own, suddenly lets out a gasp, causing the brunette to jump. "What, Pep?" he asks, and then glances down where she's tapping frantically with her manicured nail, and…

Oh.

_Shit._

He's so fucked.

Next to his schedule—which is actually sort of a perfect set of classes, because none of them start until after noon and all of them fall before Friday, which leaves the weekend for him to get wasted and forget life—is his dorm room number, which, by some horrible coincidence, is also three seventeen.

He glances at Loki, who is looking at him now with narrowed eyes, but before he can say anything Loki's walking over to Tony and snatching his card from his hand, studying it rapidly. After a few seconds, he drops the card back into his ex's outstretched palm and turns away, a look crossing his face which is halfway between irritation and something else, something unidentifiable.

Tony turns to the nearest aide and asks, "Is it possible to get a room change?"

"Not now, sir," says the aide, with an air of barely concealed amusement which Tony does not understand or like in the least, and Loki, his lip curling, adds:

"After all, Stark, we aren't in grade school anymore; just because you and I don't get along doesn't mean we can't share a living space for a few months."

Tony's cheeks are flushed again, and there's the echo of his father in his mind, telling him to fuck off because he's busy with work, and why does Tony need so much attention anyway, for god's sake, he's not twelve anymore.

"Fine," he says, turning to his girlfriend. "Pep, it's fine, I'm sure I can get it changed mid-semester."

She looks like she wants to say something, but just shrugs, and shoots Loki a look before glancing down at her own card.

Steve wonders how she'd be reacting right now if she knew that Tony and Loki used to date.

The linguistics major shoves his card into the back pocket of his jeans. "Don't worry, Stark," he says coolly, starting towards the door that leads out to the dormitories. "I won't hinder you in the process of enjoying your college experience. You won't even know I'm there."

"Let's hope not," Pepper mutters, giggling and nudging Tony, but he doesn't smile back, just looks at the ground. There's a memory flashing through his head now, of them in the summer between their junior and senior years of high school, when Loki had asked, _'you'll want to share a dorm room in college, right?'_ and Tony, his legs twined around Loki's in the afternoon heat, had replied sleepily, _'of course; who else could I find to put up with me?'_

He swallows hard; staring at Loki's retreating back, and wishes that the painful sensation in the center of his chest would go away.


	4. White Blank Page

Tony figures that if his life had a soundtrack, right now it would be playing melodramatic, minor key music, and the lighting would be dark, and the whole audience would be on the edge of their seats, waiting with bated breath to see what happened next.

He and the others get their room keys and head off to the dormitories together. It's actually kind of hilarious, what's just happened, if Tony really thinks about it—it's going to be even funnier when he has to write his dad an email in a week telling how his second year at college is going so far. _Hey, Dad, sophomore year is great. I've been splitting atoms, inventing a lunar-powered car… oh, and I'm sharing a dorm room with my ex-boyfriend._ Yeah, Howard's going to take that really well. Tony snorts to himself and Steve shoots him a look, but he doesn't respond. He's mostly focused on how the hell he's going to face Loki, every day, for the next four months or so—and how, once he walks through that door and sets his stuff down on whichever bed Loki hasn't already taken, it's going to actually be real, and not just some nightmare he can wish away.

Tony's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he isn't even aware of Pepper's fingers in his, or her voice in his ear, until she starts tugging on his arm. "Tony," she hisses. "Hey, Tony, you there?"

He turns, smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What's up, Pep?"

"I asked you if you want any help unpacking," she says, and makes it clear from the way she wiggles her eyebrows and hips that by 'unpacking' she means 'fucking like rabbits until it's time to eat'.

"Charming offer, darling," he says, "but unfortunately I have a roommate who will not take so kindly to us having sex right in front of him." _Or ever,_ he adds silently.

"Oh, that's fine," says Pepper, not letting up. "He can join us."

Bruce makes a sound halfway between choking and laughing while Steve stops in his tracks and just stares at her. Clint and Natasha snort into their palms. Tony raises an eyebrow.

Thor looks furious. "Loki is my brother," he says, "and I will not see him degraded like that."

"Oh my god," Pepper mutters, rolling her eyes. "Okay, okay. I get it. If everyone's so uptight about a little ménage-a-trois… it won't happen. Scout's honor." She holds up her right hand and stares at all of them before dropping it.

Clint mutters something in Natasha's ear which sounds distinctly like, "I cannot believe she was ever a Girl Scout."

They head off again, but Thor grabs Tony's arm and wrenches him backwards, all but slamming him into the closest wall.

"Damn, Odinson," Tony chokes. "If you want me this badly, it's gonna cost you."

Thor's frown deepens. "Listen well, Anthony," he says, in that strange, old-fashioned, almost Shakespearean way of speaking he and Loki share. "You hurt my brother once, and I forgave you because you are the leader of our group, and Loki made it clear to all of us that he would rather dispel himself from our company than see you be made an outcast."

Which really isn't how Tony remembers it, but he lets it slide.

"This time, things are going to be different," Thor continues. "If you and that girl conspire against my brother, whether it's to make him join you in sex or simply to put him through public humiliation for your sick humor… I will make you pay." His eyes, hazel and thunderous, lock onto Tony's deep brown ones. "Is that clear?"

"Got it," says Tony, only a little sarcastically. "No mortification, and no 'you stick your dick in me and my girlfriend sucks me off' deals."

Thor grits his teeth. "I mean it," he says warningly, and then he turns and walks off to catch up with the others.

Tony winces a little, rubbing at the back of his neck. He wonders how well Loki would take it if he knew that his adoptive brother was defending him, or if he knew that the same redhead he'd lost his boyfriend to had just unwittingly offered to include him in a threesome.

/

By the time Tony reaches the dormitory, his friends have already gone up, leaving him to find his room alone. There's a message on his cell from Pepper, saying, _'Where are you? Thor looked pretty mad. Call me, okay?'_ but he deletes it without responding. He gets in the elevator and goes to the third floor, ignoring both the couple making out and the scholarly-looking guy glaring at them.

When the elevator stops to let him off, he's shaking.

He has to wipe his palms on his hands twice while he's walking down the hall, and wonders why the hell he's so nervous. He's Tony Stark, for Christ's sake, and this is Loki Laufeyson he's rooming with, not that obnoxious guy Obie from his high school psychology class or nervous, overly-sweet Phil Coulson.

Taking a deep breath, he walks on, and pretty soon he's reached room three seventeen. He slides his key in the lock, hesitates, then pushes the door open. Loki's sitting on one of the beds, his duffel bag cast on the rug next to it, one leg swung carelessly over the side of the mattress, the other tucked up to his chest. He's reading a well-worn paperback copy of _The Great Gatsby_ and doesn't look up when Tony walks in, though a shift in position indicates he's aware of his presence.

"Stark," he says evenly, after a few seconds.

"Loki," Tony replies coolly, glancing briefly in the bathroom—there's Loki's shampoo and conditioner and toothbrush, but nothing else—before going into the actual bedroom. It's pretty fancy, with two closets and two desks, and beds that are at least three feet off the ground. Tony dumps his bag on the bed which Loki is not already occupying, pulls out a few shirts, and starts hanging them up.

"Efficiency is not a trait I was aware you possessed," says Loki, still not looking up. Tony rolls his eyes.

"Do we really have to do the small talk thing now? I'm kind of pressed for time." Actually, he isn't, but he knows he can go join Thor and Steve in some video games easily enough, and anything will be better than hanging around with Loki for the next couple of hours while they wait for the introductory dinner to begin in the Union.

The younger man frowns down at his book. "I'm merely observing what I see, Stark, and what I see is that you've become better at keeping up with yourself since I last knew you." He glances over briefly, smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. "Congratulations. What has that Pepper done to you?"

Tony finishes with the shirts, pulls his laptop out of its bag, and sets it on the desk beside his bed. "Nothing," he says. "I'm not usually like this, but like I said, I'm pressed for time."

"What are you going to do, fuck her?"

Tony's back tenses, and he wants to hit Loki so badly he can feel his fist curling in on itself of its own accord. "Wasn't planning on it, but thanks for the suggestion. I'll keep it in the mental log I have of shit to do later, right next to asking for a room change as soon as possible."

Loki is smirking, and he puts his book down, getting off his bed and walking over to Tony.

"Don't get so uptight," he says. "I know as well as everyone else that you'll stick your cock into anything with a pulse. You don't need to hide your sexual exploitations from me. Just make sure that if you decide her room's not good enough, you warn me before bringing her here so I can have time to get out of your way."

And now Tony's turning, because god, it's really not Loki's business what he does or when he does it, and he's grabbing his thin wrist, intending to shoot a sarcastic remark at him that he won't be able to reply to, but when Tony's thumb digs into his skin, Loki winces, and it's enough to give the billionaire's son pause, because he's not pressing hard enough to hurt, not really. Frowning, he twists Loki's arm up, looks at his wrist. There's a horrible mark on his pale skin, reddish and raised, enough to look slightly infected. Tony's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"What's this, Loki?" he asks.

Loki jerks his hand out of Tony's grasp and rubs at his wrist. "It's nothing," he mutters.

But Tony's stubborn—one good trait he got from Howard—and he takes Loki's arm again, more gently this time, and runs his thumb over the raised wound. Where he's touching, he can feel the pulse, beating steadily below his skin.

"Who did this to you, Laufeyson?" he asks, staring straight at Loki, into those cut emerald eyes. His neck muscles jerk reflexively as he swallows, and there's a second's pause before he pulls his arm back again, breaking eye contact.

"Who the fuck do you think?" he asks. "Odin, of course. Said maybe he could burn the homosexuality out of me." His eyes shut halfway. "He's still not okay with it, all these years later, no matter what he says to me."

Another memory's come to Tony's mind, now, of a New Year's Eve party Thor and Loki were cohosting during their junior year. Tony had arrived late, having stopped to pick up a present for his boyfriend, and when he'd walked in, everyone had already been in the basement… except Loki, who was in the kitchen with his dad. Tony had started forward, but pulled back abruptly at the abrasive tone in Odin's voice:

_"That fag,"_ he'd snarled, _"is not welcome in my house. I won't have him corrupting you."_

_"Like you should actually give a shit,"_ Loki had replied heatedly, and Tony had known that they were talking about him. _"I'm not even related to you. Can't really contaminate your name with my habits."_

And there had been a cracking sound, like bone hitting bone, and Tony had winced, pulled out his cell, slipped out the front door, and called Loki from a block over, asking if he wanted to go spend the night in a park or something instead. They'd gone, then, and had a good time, but after that Tony had always been hesitant to set foot in Odin's house, and he'd never forgotten the horrible twisting feeling in his gut when he'd realized Loki was abused, same as him.

Now, staring at Loki, at the burn mark on his wrist, Tony swallows and starts to speak, but just then there's a knock at their door, and Thor calls:

"Brother! Anthony! Are you both settled? Come join Steven and I in a round of Call of Duty!"

Loki makes a vague gesture at the door with his hand before going back to his bed and flopping down. Tony hesitates, but Loki doesn't look up again, and after a few seconds he walks to the door and opens it, putting on a fake smile for Thor and trying to wipe the memory of the past five minutes from his mind.


	5. Sorrow Waited, Sorrow Won

Supper that night is a stilted affair. Professor Nick Fury, who also happens to be the dean of students, gives them an emphatic speech on the necessity of "keeping their shit together" while in school, which Tony translates as, "don't knock anyone up, don't burn down Berkeley, and don't get expelled". Fury looks formidable, standing there with his cape and eye patch, bald head shining under the fluorescent lights. Tony wonders how long he's been out of the mafia.

Across the table, Loki sits with his head over his tray, long, dark strands of hair hanging around the sides of his face, absently picking at his food with his fork. He's keeping his wrist curved in; not that he's surprised no one noticed before, but now that Tony's seen he's starting to get paranoid that maybe other people will, like Thor, and wouldn't that just be fucking _fantastic_ —like having to face Odin about his own damn abuse, but younger and slightly less prone to outbursts of temper. He twists his wrist a little bit—the burn is really not that bad, it's not swollen like last time—and notices Steve, who is sitting on his left, looking at him with concern. Steve Rogers, the nicest guy in the group, and that probable boyfriend of his, sweet, shy junior Phil Coulson, giving Loki pity? Like he needs it, like Steve would mean it anyway. Loki has found over the years that people only pretend to care when they want to look good later; he knows he's worthless, and he doesn't want that kind of false concern.

He glances up for a second at Tony and Pepper, who are sitting across from him, Pepper's arm slung across Tony's waist, his arm draped over her shoulders. He's got one eye on Dean Fury and the other on his redheaded slut of a girlfriend, who is evidently doing mildly inappropriate things to him under the table, judging from his expression and the way he keeps shooting her _looks_ , sort of the same kind that he used to shoot Loki back in high school when he'd slide his hand between Tony's legs under the table during after-school coffee meetings.

"Save it for the dorm room," Loki mutters, dropping his head down again, and is surprised to hear Steve stifle a snort beside him. Tony glances up, one eyebrow raised, but Steve just shakes his head, and Loki notices out of the corner of his eye Pepper mouthing the word _crazy_ , which sort of really irritates him for no reason.

After the dean is done speaking, and the student body has done their obligatory duty of pretending to care by clapping, and he's stepped down from his podium and left the Union, Thor—who is sitting on Tony's other side—turns to Loki.

"Well, brother," he booms, "you are oddly silent. Is there anything you wish to interject into the conversation?"

"Considering that you forced me out of my dorm and into this hall to eat with you and your friends, I don't feel like I need to participate in your pathetic attempts at social conversation, no," Loki replies coolly. There's a slightly stretched silence, and he glances at all of them in turn, daring them to ask him why he's being an asshole. Only Tony's not looking at him; he's staring off at a far corner of the room and thoughtfully chewing a slice of chicken.

But Thor's oblivious as always to Loki's attempts at hiding himself from the rest of the world, and he continues after a moment, "You did not eat with us much last year, brother—"

"And fuck, I wonder why…" Loki mutters to himself, raising his eyebrows at his tray and prompting another snort from Steve and Phil's end of the table.

"—so you do not really know Pepper that well."

Loki's head shoots up at that, and the look he gives his brother could cut glass, or freeze fire. How can Thor not know? The dark-haired man shoots a look in Tony's direction—briefly—and it is filled with as much hurt and anguish as any cry for help.

"Thor…" Tony starts, without thinking, but Thor's on a roll now, and there's really no stopping him, and Loki sinks back and drops his gaze again and tells himself it doesn't matter as he brings his hands into his lap and traces a path over the burn mark with his thumb.

"Why don't you tell her about what you read for your literature and linguistics majors?" the blonde asks, all smiles.

"Considering how well that went over this morning, I doubt any attempt at furthering the conversation would progress further than about two sentences," Loki says, sarcastically, curling his upper lip in distaste at Pepper, who just rolls her eyes.

Natasha elbows Loki in the side and mouths, _be nice, Laufeyson._

"Oh come, brother!" Thor laughs, and Loki sighs, pushing his tray aside and leaning against the table.

"Well, I want to know what he reads," says Pepper.

"Nothing you'd know," Loki mutters, but he can already see it's a lost cause, and god, he wishes he had some alcohol with him…

"Try me," says Pepper with a smirk on her face like she's about to reveal she's into Daniel Defoe's work. "I've spent many hours in Tony's library."

"Oh, I'm sure you have," Loki replies, smiling with such venom it's surprising he doesn't grow fangs. But Pepper keeps her gaze trained on him, and he sighs again and rolls his eyes and says:

"I read Fitzgerald and Shakespeare and Whitman, mostly, though recently I've kind of found a liking for Poe—"

"Not interested anymore," Pepper interrupts, yawning and looping her arm through Tony's.

Everyone stares at her, including Tony, who has been drifting in and out of this conversation anyway but can sense disaster in the near future. Loki's fists clench under the table and he manages to catch Tony's eye long enough to mouth, _fuck her, Stark._

_Oh, I intend to,_ Tony mouths back, without thinking, but it's a typical Tony move and he shrugs it off, missing the constriction of Loki's neck muscles as he swallows. His heart's constricting in his chest, and he's not entirely sure why.

"Of course you're not," he says after a little bit, his voice coming out surprisingly even, considering the tightness in his throat. "Anything requiring an I.Q. over fifteen would fucking break your brain." He stands abruptly, shoving his injured wrist against his side and picking his tray up with his other hand. "Sorry, Thor. I can't fucking deal with your friends any longer than this." He's shaking as he heads to the trashcan, tosses his food out. Thor's on his feet, the words _brother wait_ on his lips, but Loki's gone by the time he gets them out.

In a flash, everyone's whirled on Pepper, who looks honestly confused by all the angry glares she's getting up and down their table.

"Well, really," she says, "he was boring. Going on about authors no one even reads anymore…" She looks at Tony. "None of them were in your library, were they, honey?"

He's wondering why he was thinking of her as "sweet" this morning, and glares at her, his jaw clenched. "Fitzgerald and Shakespeare were, yes," he says.

She looks momentarily set back, but brightens a moment later. "Well, he's not part of the group anyway, is he? So it doesn't really matter?"

Tony's on his feet before he knows what he's doing, storming out of the Union after Loki. He hears Pepper's voice, clear as a bell and ringing out over the din of other students' chatter, as he slams the door behind him: "What the hell is _his_ problem?"

/

He doesn't really care about Loki being hurt, he tells himself as he heads up in the elevator to the third floor. He's just going to apologize for Pepper being such a bitch. Except Tony Stark doesn't apologize, not for himself, not for anyone else, and so what the hell is he doing in front of he and Loki's dorm room, sliding his key into the lock and turning the knob?

Loki's in the bathroom when Tony gets in; he can hear the water of the shower running. He leans against the door and calls:

"Hey, can you hear me in there?"

There's a pause, then:

"Shouldn't you be taking her to her dorm instead, Stark? She did insult me, after all; surely even you have a slight concept of decency."

"Surprise, this isn't about sex, this is about…" Tony hesitates. "Me."

"No surprise, then," Loki calls back, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Look, we haven't even been in our sophomore year of college one day and we're already getting off to a shitty start."

"Like you were expecting anything different?"

Tony sighs heavily and shifts his weight and reminds himself that this is Loki he's talking to, not someone rational or sane. "I'd just like to say that Pepper's really normally a very sweet girl."

The shower stops running, and there's a pause while Tony listens to Loki pushing back the curtain and stepping out. Then the bathroom door is opened, and he draws in a quick breath, because there's Loki, half-naked, covered from the waist down with a loosely wrapped towel. He leans against the doorframe and tilts his head.

"She's normally sweet?"

"I would know; I've been with her now for—"

"—almost two years, I know," Loki finishes, waving his hand, allowing Tony to catch a fleeting glimpse of that burn mark again. "I also know that while she may be sweet to you, Stark, she has no reason or obligation to be 'sweet' to me, a stranger she hardly knows." He pushes past his ex and into the bedroom, going to his closet and opening the door.

Tony watches him moving, watches the pale line of his back stretch as he reaches for pajamas, watches the muscles of his arms as he slides a shirt over his still-glistening chest. "If it bothers you, Loki, I can tell her to stop."

"For one thing, she's not doing anything; she's just being the average twenty-year-old woman who's realizing that she might never be a cheerleader again." He slips his boxer shorts on under the towel, and Tony feels a brief surge of disappointment. "For another thing, it doesn't fucking matter to me how I get treated by her, because I'm not sitting with you again." Now he drops the towel, and puts on his pajama bottoms, and Tony wants to ask when he stopped sleeping in his underwear.

"Fine," he says, after a few seconds. "I just wanted you to know that Pepper's not as stupid as she comes off."

"Well, thank fucking god," says Loki sarcastically. "I'd hate to think of the offspring her stupidity and your genius might produce." He walks over to his bed, gets in, and picks up The Great Gatsby again. "Go fuck her and use a condom, Stark."

Tony laughs shortly and flips Loki off before walking out of the dorm room again. It's only when he's in the elevator heading back down to the Union that he realizes that Loki was complimenting him.


	6. Unstoppable

Several days pass without much incident. After their initial conversation on the first night about Tony's genius versus Pepper's stupidity, both physics major and linguistics major spend their time not talking. There are 'hello's exchanged in the hallways if they happen to pass each other, but neither of them have any classes together and Loki spends all his free time in the library on his laptop, while Tony spends his either on the grounds with Pepper or playing video games with Thor and Bruce. Howard calls, once, and laughs when Tony tells him what's happened, actually laughs and it incinerates Tony so much that he throws his phone across the room and kicks Pepper out when she asks why he's so angry about his father's reaction. He spends the rest of the evening starting on the blueprints for a bridge he knows he will never build, then goes to Pepper's dorm and apologizes—though by apologizes he means that he backs her onto her bed, tears off their clothes, fucks her, and leaves her lying there panting with her hair spread out over the pillow.

He pretends, afterwards, laying in the silence of his own dorm with his hand shoved halfway down his pants, that he's thinking of her, and not Loki, and that when he bites down on the sheets at his second climax of the night, it's to prevent the neighbors from hearing, and not to prevent himself from crying out his roommate's name.

A week and a half into their sophomore year of college, Tony writes a paper for his quantum physics class about string theory and why it's the only plausible explanation for the creation of the universe. He then goes out and gets drunk off his ass with Pepper, who gropes him like they're still teenagers in the middle of the lawn, under a giant elm tree. But the liquor makes him talk too much, and he's trying to explain black holes and zero gravity to her when she makes him go back to his dorm and sleep it off, so he does, because after all there's really no point in having sex with someone to whom you aren't even physically attracted.

He goes back to the dorm and lets himself in, making a subconscious effort to avoid waking Loki, because it's after midnight and he's sure his raven-haired roommate is asleep. He's tiptoeing over laundry and one old box of Stouffer's, trying to find his bed in the pitch dark, but the liquor's made him clumsy and he trips over something—his laptop cord, the traitorous thing—and falls, crashing into the desk between he and Loki's beds.

A moment later, the overhead light is switched on, and Loki is staring at him, sheets twisted around his waist, a curious expression in his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Tony blinks red eyes at Loki and slurs, his trademark smirk on his face:

"Hey you, don't mind me, just coming in."

"I can see that," Loki replies, laughing a little now as he takes in the sight of Tony lying on the floor with his pants still halfway unzipped and his foot caught in the tangle of the cord. He slides off his mattress and crouches beside Tony, who appears to be struggling to maintain some sense of dignity as he unloops the wire from his shoe and tosses it aside. "Wild night?"

"Oh yeah," says Tony. He looks up at Loki, and is suddenly hyperaware of the closeness of their bodies, of every contour and hollow in his pale face. His eyes shine cut emerald, with the faintest hint of turquoise lingering somewhere in their depths. Loki's tongue comes out, seemingly of its own accord, and wets his lips, leaving a faint shine on his skin.

Wondering what the hell just happened between them, Tony reaches into his shirt pocket, suddenly needing a cigarette. "You want details?" he asks, lips clamped around the end as he fumbles for his lighter.

"Not really," says Loki, looking away as the physics major touches the flame to the cigarette and breathes in, then out, gray smoke curling around their heads and in their hair.

Tony shrugs. "Your loss; it was pretty damn hot."

"Oh, I'm sure," Loki replies, and as he gets up and goes into the bathroom it suddenly occurs to Tony that this has been their first conversation in over seven days. He pulls in another breath of nicotine and holds it in his lungs for a few seconds before releasing, his fingers curving around the stick as he lets it rest against the floor, cradled protectively in his hand.

When Loki comes back out, Tony scrambles to his feet, letting the cigarette rest between his lips as he kicks off his shoes. For a moment he's unsteady again, laughing because he's so damn sure he looks ridiculous right now, and he leans against the bed for support. Loki's watching him again, that same curious expression on his face, and even when drunk it still unsettles Tony a little, so he says:

"You want, it'll cost you."

"Surely not, Stark," Loki replies, and there's something like disappointment in his eyes for half a second, but Tony's probably just had too much whiskey or something. He drags in another breath of smoke and stubs the rest out on his ashtray before pulling off his socks and tossing them so they land on the computer cord.

"You remember the particulars," says Tony, and he's not actually sure where he's going with this, but he can't get that mental image out of his head of Loki from this morning—when he thought Tony wasn't awake and he'd taken his shirt off and there had been a breathtakingly beautiful expanse of pale skin which Tony was pleased to see had not changed at all in two years—or the image of Loki from about five minutes ago, sitting too close and yet not close enough—but then that was probably the whiskey talking, too.

Loki mutters something which sounds like _go get Pepper if you're horny_ and starts to get back in his bed, but then somehow Tony's fingers are wrapping around his wrist and turning him, and Loki's eyebrows go up in surprise, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Tony cuts him off:

"You don't have to pay, not tonight," and whether it's from the alcohol or lust or because maybe he actually still wants Loki (he's thinking it's the third one but he's not really sure if he wants to admit that to himself), Tony presses their lips together. It's more teeth than tongues, more of a 'let me show you that I can still control when I'm wasted' than anything else, and it's bruising and blistering and filled with a million things that neither of them have ever said to the other.

Loki tastes whiskey and nicotine and tries to tell himself he didn't miss it, not even a little.

"Well," says Tony after a while, pulling away and shivering at the way Loki's fingers ghost, like cool spiders, across his stomach. "That was an adventure."

"You're drunk," Loki says, "and you'll regret it in the morning."

"Yeah," Tony agrees, pulling Loki back in for more. They're biting each other's lips, and Loki's mouth is trailing down Tony's neck, sucking and licking and _jesusfuck how is that legal—_

And then Tony's cell rings.

"Leave it," says Loki against his jaw, but he reaches in his pocket anyway. It's Pepper, and she sounds all chipper when he answers the phone, and he kind of wants to strangle her through the wires.

"Hey," she says. "I'm sorry I made you leave so abruptly. I've been thinking about it."

"Um," says Tony, because Loki's got his shirt halfway off and he's doing some very interesting things to his collarbone and it's really hard to concentrate.

"So can I come over? I know it's kinda late, and your roommate's probably asleep, but—"

"Uh, no," says Tony, as Loki's fingers find his open zipper. "No, not a good idea, Pep, sorry."

Pepper whines and he can practically see her stomping her foot and pouting.

"Pepper," he says, with as much control in his voice as he can possibly muster, "it's after midnight, and Loki's—" _probably about to go down on me or something Jesus I should get drunk more often around him_ —"asleep, like you said, and I just want to sleep. Too. By myself."

"Fine," says Pepper. Still pouting, he can tell, but he doesn't really care. "I'll see you in the morning, Tony." She hangs up before he can, and he almost throws his phone on the floor in an effort to get rid of it.

Loki barely glances up at Tony, from his position with his mouth on his stomach. "She's gonna be a problem?" he asks, and Tony says 'no', and Loki nods and then there's no more concentrating, just a warm mouth between his legs and no pants and it's only later, long after Loki's gone to sleep again and Tony's lying in his bed wishing he'd been allowed to reciprocate, only when he starts feeling less drunk and more hungover in the early morning hours, that he realizes there's no way in hell he can explain to Pepper why he turned down sex with her but still managed to come out with a bruise on his neck.


	7. Cold

In the morning, Loki wakes up at seven a.m., one arm shoved under his pillow, hair disheveled and partially stuck to his face. He rolls over and stares at Stark for a few minutes; his roommate's lying with his head underneath his pillow and the covers wrapped haphazardly around his legs.

Loki suppresses regret at not falling asleep next to Tony last night and gets up.

He's finished showering and is shaving with his electric razor when he hears Tony call, "Some people are still trying to sleep."

He rolls his eyes, scrapes the last bits of hair off the side of his neck, and shuts the machine off. "Excuse me for not having a schedule completely catered to my drunken needs."

"I didn't arrange my schedule; fate happened to deal me a _very_ lucky hand." Loki does not have to look at Tony to know he's sitting up now, that wiseass smirk on his face. The raven-haired man pulls his towel a little tighter against his waist and walks out into the room. He notes the way Tony's eyes practically rake up and down his body before snapping up to his face, and he suppresses a snort.

"One episode of fellatio and suddenly sharing a room with me is considered 'lucky'," he murmurs speculatively, going to his closet and selecting a gray shirt and some dark slacks. "Who would've thought the great Anthony Stark does not regret what the liquor provoked him into at midnight?" And there's no bitterness in his voice when he says it, no way, Loki's got all that well under control and when he shoots a glance in Tony's direction it's not at all to see his reaction to the comment. Just because Loki— _sort of halfway really for a longer time than he's willing to admit even to himself_ —wanted what happened last night doesn't mean Tony has to. And probably Tony, with Pepper and her charms, didn't really want it at all.

This, Loki thinks, is why he fucking hates alcohol.

Tony's watching him, his brown hair tousled, and Loki feels an ache to run it through his fingers—not like he's going to act on that, because last night was a one-time thing. His beard and mustache—Loki knows he's proud of his facial hair; he's had it since he could grow it and keep it shaved neat the way he does—look a little patchy, and his eyes are sleep swollen and red, and he's squinting a little against the light Loki's turned on, but other than that… he looks just as amazing as he ever did in high school. Loki finds himself hating Tony for it, and he drops down to the floor so he can take his shoes out from under the bed.

"Yeah." Tony speaks so suddenly it startles Loki and he almost crashes into the bedpost. "Yeah, like it's a real surprise to anyone in this room that I don't regret what happened last night." He pauses, and Loki can feel the smirk on his lips. "Well, what I remember of it, anyway."

Asshole, Loki thinks, tying the laces on his shoes and standing up, grabbing his laptop carrier and his linguistics textbook and heading for the door. "And what do you remember, Stark?" he asks, flipping the light switch back off, not really expecting an answer.

"Enough to know I'd want it again," says Tony, and Loki has to suppress a shiver which runs up his spine at the tone in his voice.

"Supposing I'm not willing?" he asks, hand on the doorknob, fully aware that he isn't going to have time to eat breakfast if he stays much longer.

There's a shifting sound behind him which suggests Tony's lying back down and pulling up the covers. He does not want to look back, but he can't help himself, and he's startled when he sees Tony staring at him still, an expression in his eyes which could be mistaken for sadness in the wrong light.

Then Tony gestures at his body, grinning; says, "How could you resist this?" and Loki knows he was mistaken and leaves, feeling flustered and almost angry with himself for allowing his emotions to get away from him. He's never going to admit that last night was hardly a mistake; not like he was planning it out or anything, but he knows Tony, and he knows that his ex is hardly one to be faithful when drunk.

It occurs to Loki, as he steps into the elevator and presses the first floor button, that last night's actions nearly mirrored the actions done at the Christmas dance two years ago.

/

That evening, after everyone's classes are over, Bruce orders takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street and they take it up to Thor and Steve's room, carefully evading campus security so Natasha and Pepper can come too. Loki doesn't want to go; he wants to hole up in he and Tony's room and eat Stouffer's and read Snorri Sturluson's works and maybe listen to Wagner, but Thor won't stop pestering him to join in, and he caves, if only to get him to shut up. Coulson's there too, with a box of sushi, and Loki mutters, "What a delightful evening we have ahead of us," which makes Clint laugh and Steve glare at him reproachfully.

The nine of them settle on the beds and the floor, where Thor has set up the gaming systems. Tony pushes aside a few of Steve's textbooks to make room for he and Pepper to sit, and Loki glares at them, at the way Tony's arm is curved around Pepper's waist, as if he's not doing that on purpose.

Thor's setting up Halo when there's a knock at the door. "Steve, get that," he grunts, forgetting to be polite in an effort to make sure the game works, and Natasha snorts, making Steve blush as he hands his sweet-and-sour chicken to Phil and gets up. He opens the door and there's a brief exchange and then suddenly he's coming back, with a guy none of them have ever seen. He's tall, not quite as tall as Loki, but almost, and he's got soft light brown hair and sharp blue eyes. There's something almost cold about him, but he doesn't exactly seem unfriendly, and he looks at each of them in turn for a second before saying:

"Sorry to barge in like this, but I live down the hall. I'm new this year and I got bored just watching Jersey Shore reruns on my laptop, so… can I join?"

Loki's tongue snakes out involuntarily and runs over his lower lip, and he's pretty sure the new guy notices, but he doesn't say anything, just raises his eyebrows at Thor.

"Of course you may join!" says Thor, who has now set up the game and is eating his egg rolls with such vigor one might think they are about to get away from him. "Do we not share a class?"

"Applied sciences, I think," says the man, nodding. And then, "Sorry, did I not introduce myself? Name's Thanatos."

"I'm sorry, Than-what?" Tony says. Pepper giggles, and Loki rolls his eyes.

"You can call me Thanos; I understand Thanatos is a bit of a mouthful."

"S'nice to meet you," they all say in return, except for Tony, who is now looking curiously between Thanos and Loki. Thanos seems to have noticed him and even though he's asking for their names, he's got his eyes locked on Loki's, and Tony's wondering what the hell is going on, but he's not jealous, no way. He squeezes Pepper a little tighter.

"Should've gotten some Sake to go with this, hey Pep?" he asks, grinning.

"Cool it, Stark," Loki murmurs, still looking at Thanos and those impossibly long arms. "At the rate you're going, you'll be part of a physics experiment yourself by Christmas break."

Thanos laughs and sits next to Loki, a sprawl of jeans and Slayer shirt beside Loki's gray and black ensemble. Natasha and Clint exchange glances, eyebrows raised, and look between Tony and Loki. Tony's glaring at his ex, who has a tiny smirk playing on the edges of his lips as he takes a bite of his food and asks Thanos what he's majoring in. Thor and Bruce are too intent on Halo to notice anything, and Steve and Phil are kind of making out in the corner, but Pepper's head is tilted, and there's an expression in her eyes which says she's starting to put together the pieces of a puzzle she should never be allowed to figure out.

"I'm majoring in art," Thanos is saying. "Graphic designs, mostly. I want to own a t-shirt company one day, and I'm creating logos for it now, with stuff from famous novels, movies, TV shows…"

"I'm in linguistics and literature," Loki replies, drawing his legs up to his chest. "So obviously I know novels. I could help you, maybe? During a study hall?"

"That would be perfect," Thanos grins. "Loki, isn't it?"

He nods.

"Sounds like this guy's right up your alley, Laufeyson," Tony says, and he doesn't even try to keep the anger out of his voice.

Loki just smiles.


	8. Burn Your Kingdom Down

Tony sulks for the rest of the evening.

Who the hell does this Thanos guy think he is, anyway, strutting in the room like a proud peacock, like he's known them all for years and it's all just as casual as if they're all best friends. He cannot stop staring at the two of them, his ex and the new guy, at how comfortable they seem together already, even though it's been probably half an hour since Thanos walked in and they cannot know each other that well yet. They even sort of look alike—they have the same high, sharp cheekbones and cut, defined jaw lines and endless legs—and Tony finds himself growing irrationally jealous. Not to mention the fact that everyone—well, except Thor, but then Thor has never really been one for making close observations—seems to be noticing the way they're interacting. Steve keeps looking at Tony with his eyebrows raised, and Natasha is looking between them like she's waiting for something to explode, but he refuses to rise to the bait, not with Pepper there. Still, he watches them, out of the corner of his eyes, and there's something vaguely familiar about the way they're looking at each other, though he's not sure what it is.

And then suddenly he places it, and it makes his heart jerk in an uncomfortable way. Loki's looking at Thanos now the way he used to look at Tony, when they'd walk together during school and get lost in their own world—the way they'd look at each other when they'd start out at the entrance to the school talking and suddenly look up and be entering the coffee shop, with no recollection of having walked that whole distance at all. He almost wants to start making out with Pepper, just for payback, but Loki isn't even really aware of him anymore, and Tony wonders how he can possibly feel like he's losing something he never had in the first place.

Except he did have Loki, once. And he shot that chance to hell in a handbasket.

Tony hates himself.

Eventually, Thor says he needs to get some sleep, and they all shuffle out, smiling at how cute Steve looks trying to wake Phil up so he can go too. At the elevators, Tony kisses Pepper goodnight and hears, behind him, Thanos saying to Loki:

"Don't forget, okay? The library, tomorrow, at noon."

"I won't," Loki promises, and there's a beat of silence before Tony hears Thanos' retreating footsteps—a beat of silence that makes his heart constrict unpleasantly. He pulls away from Pepper and turns to look at Loki, but he's already heading into their dorm, and something tells Tony he's not going to get any information from him tonight.

"Night, Tony," says Natasha, passing him with a smirk on her face that lets him know she saw the way he was glaring at them earlier. He rolls his eyes and doesn't respond, and she gets on the elevator with Pepper, Clint, Bruce, and a sleepy-eyed Phil. The door shuts as they prepare to descend, and Tony lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding before turning and going into his dorm room.

Loki's sitting at his laptop and doesn't turn, not even when Tony almost slams the door shut behind him.

"That Thanos guy, he seemed pretty comfortable around you," Tony says conversationally, heading into the bathroom and grabbing his toothbrush. He cannot keep the edge out of his voice, and he can hear the smirk on Loki's face when he replies:

"He's nice. Nicer than you."

"And here I was thinking that couldn't be possible." Tony spits out a mouthful of toothpaste and starts brushing harder, baring his teeth in the mirror, scraping his gums a little too hard and making them bleed slightly.

"Jealous, Stark?"

"Hardly," Tony says, edgily, rinsing his mouth out before heading into the room. Loki's shutting his laptop and getting his pajama bottoms and an undershirt to change into for bed, but he glances at Tony and smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanos and I are going to work on some of his shirt designs tomorrow."

Tony clears his throat and doesn't reply for a second. Then he kicks off his shoes and steps out of his pants and slides off his shirt, and Loki's not even trying to hide the fact that he's staring again. Grinning, Tony crawls between his sheets and grabs the pack of Marlboros off the table between their beds. He slips one between his lips and says:

"You can play around with this new guy all you want, Laufeyson; doesn't change the fact that this morning you said you still wanted me."

"I believe it was you who expressed a desire to have sex with me again," Loki corrects, "not the other way around. I said I may not accept your offers, should you try to make another move."

"Oh, cool it, Shakespeare," Tony grunts, blowing out a cloud of slate gray smoke. "You and Thanos might share a shitload of similarities in looks, but in the end, you'll be running back to me."

Loki raises his eyebrow, his expression tightening. "Should I run back to you, Stark? A man who throws away all he has just to get in on some woman with red hair and as much personality as the shower curtain? I may have wanted you in my life once; it does not mean I will ever want you back again." He turns and goes into the bathroom, and Tony wonders where the hell that conversation went sour. He crushes his cigarette in the ashtray, flips off the lamp over his bed, and fists the sheets between his fingers, wishing he were anywhere but here.

/

_Loki trailed uncertain fingers down Tony's stomach, feeling his body shake in response to the anticipation of what was coming. He pressed a soft kiss to Tony's collarbone, and then another one to his shoulder, and he felt Tony spreading his legs slightly as he reached for the lubricant sitting on the bedside table. Loki applied what he hoped was an appropriate amount to his hand and his cock before sliding his fingers between Tony's legs. The future engineer hissed out a breath as he slid one finger in; Loki locked his eyes onto his boyfriend's and watched as he bit his lip, heard his breath hitch at the back of his throat. He added a second finger after a while of pushing around with the first, and then a third finger, and then Tony was grabbing him and saying, "Fuck me Loki or I swear to god I am going to come right now," and he pulled his fingers out and crawled over and positioned himself between Tony's legs._

_There was a weighted silence; Loki's heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst through his ribcage. They were here now, in Tony's room, with the lights off and the faint smells of booze and cigarettes lingering around sex and sweat. Tony slid one of his legs around Loki's waist, brought his arms around his neck._

_"Are you sure…?" Loki asked, his voice coming out hoarse, staring down into Tony's sex-darkened eyes. "I can take you from the back, you know…"_

_"I want to watch you fall apart," Tony whispered in response. "When you come for me."_

_That was all Loki needed. He pushed in, and Tony grunted, wincing a little, and Loki waited until he started pushing back before thrusting in deeper and harder. They built a quickening pace, bodies slick with sweat, voices rising in pitch, spewing out each other's names around curses and various deities and Tony's begging Loki to go longer, to go faster…_

_When Tony came, he arched up from the mattress, his voice a broken, keening cry, desperate and passionate and enough to drive Loki wild and over the edge himself. He pulled out when he'd stopped shaking so badly, when he'd regained a small bit of control over himself, and Tony bit at the pale length of his neck, exposed to his lips against the cool white sheets._

_"Was it good?" Loki breathed into Tony's sweat-soaked skin, and Tony smiled._

_"The best," he replied, and they both laughed softly._

Loki wakes up from this dream so abruptly that he's still smiling faintly. A faint crack of sunlight shining through the window lets him know he's probably overslept, badly. His sheets are tangled around his legs and his fingers are curved around his half-hard cock. Glancing at Tony's bed, making sure he's still asleep, Loki slides off his mattress, slips into the bathroom, strips off his clothes, and steps into the shower. He's pressed for time; he knows he has to meet Thanos pretty soon, but this is… more urgent.

Hot water spills over his shoulders, his legs. He wraps his fingers around himself and shuts his eyes, leaning back against the tile. He grits his teeth to try and muffle any sounds he might make and calls to mind the dream he just had, and finds himself wishing it was the real Tony joining him in the shower for this.

When he's cleaned himself off and gotten dressed again, Loki heads down to the library, feeling only a little bit disappointed that Tony didn't wake up before he left. He's fifteen minutes early, but Thanos is there already, sitting at a table in the back near Dostoevsky, his laptop plugged into a wall charger. He glances up and smiles brilliantly at Loki as he walks up, and the raven-haired man has to focus on erasing Tony's smirk from his mind as he sits across from his new friend.

"I was thinking I'd start by showing you examples of the designs I've already done," Thanos says, turning his laptop so Loki can see too. "Here's one with Whitman: _'And I will show that nothing can happen more beautiful than death'_."

The words are gray on black, with red splatters behind them. "Blood?" Loki guesses, and Thanos nods. They scroll through a few more quotes, such as: _'Death - the last sleep? No, it is the final awakening'_ , and: _'I know death has ten thousand several doors for men to take their exits'_ , and even a song quote: _'When god is gone and the devil takes hold, who will have mercy on your soul?'_ Each shirt is dark-colored, though not all of them have the same blood-spatter in the background as the first one. Finally Loki turns to Thanos, his eyebrow arched.

"You are fixated upon death. Should I be worried?" he asks, only half flirtatiously.

Thanos grins, and his eyes are cold, but they're beautiful. For Loki, it's a little like looking into a mirror. "Don't worry about me," he says. Then he reaches over the table and curves his long fingers over Loki's, and the younger man swallows. "You like the designs, I'm assuming?"

Loki nods. Thanos nods too, turning his laptop without removing his hand from its current position. "I'm sorry to kind of be rushing off, but I have somewhere else to be; it just came up this morning. Perhaps… you would like to meet later for coffee? Or dinner, even? I can show you more shirts… and you can help me pick out less morbid quotes to use."

Loki laughs. "I'd like that," he says. "Let me give you my number and you can text me when you're ready to meet up."

Thanos hands over his iPhone and Loki taps in his contact information, sliding his Android across the table to allow Thanos to do the same. Once they're done exchanging information, they take their respective phones back and stand up. Thanos reaches out to shake Loki's hand, and Loki feels a chill which is not entirely unpleasant as their skin makes contact for the second time that day.

"See you around, Laufeyson," Thanos says before walking off.

It's nice, really, Loki thinks as he turns to the bookshelves to select some reading material for the afternoon, to hear his surname used and not have it feel like an insult.


	9. The Resistance

Loki receives a text from Thanos around six p.m., after spending most of the day in the library reading up on astronomy and art history and generally avoiding having to write a paper for his Shakespearean class on the play Othello.

_'Meet me at the entrance to Berkeley,'_ the text reads. _'Is Italian okay, because I know a great restaurant if you say yes.'_

He smiles, biting his lower lip, and texts back an affirmative before putting his books up and heading out. On the way, he passes Thor, who is talking animatedly to a girl Loki's never seen before, with brown hair and brown eyes. Thor grins when he spots Loki and calls:

"Brother! Come meet Jane Foster! She is in my applied sciences class, same as Thanos."

_Oh great, another one to put up with,_ Loki thinks, and shakes his head, ignoring the way Thor's face positively falls, giving him the appearance of a kicked puppy. The thought of Thor entering into a relationship with yet another girl is at once both amusing and annoying. Odin and Frigga are going to be so _happy_ when their son comes home at Christmas with that piece of work hanging off his arm; yet another reminder that their biological spawn is "normal", even if the one they adopted isn't.

Something stings at the backs of Loki's eyes which is dangerously close to tears, and he quickens his pace. He's looking down at the concrete and not paying attention, which is how he nearly runs into Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. They are standing underneath a tree, talking quietly, a cigarette hanging between Tony's fingers, an almost wicked expression on his face. When Loki bumps into him, both are startled, but Tony's recovery time for being surprised is, as always, unnaturally fast, and he grins, lifting the cigarette to his lips and breathing in.

"Laufeyson," he says, nodding. "What brings you to this part of the college at this hour?"

"I'm meeting someone."

"Oh, do you have a _date?_ " Pepper's voice is incredulous, and Loki can feel his irritation grating up and down his spine, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck, because why should it be surprising that he has a date? (Except it's not really a date but they don't have to know that and there's a flash of jealousy in Tony's eyes which makes Loki's lips quirk up in the corners.)

"Yeah, Pepper, I have a _date,_ " he replies, a bit tersely. "Is it so hard for you to comprehend?"

She glances at Tony, whose eyes are narrowed slightly, then at Loki, who is standing with his arms folded across his chest, and she shrugs. "Whatever."

Which makes absolutely no sense, and Loki finds himself wondering for the millionth time what the hell Tony sees in her. He says 'goodbye' to them and starts off again, but is stopped by the feel of Tony's fingers wrapping around his arm. A flash of memory from two nights ago crosses his mind at that— _Tony's fingers on his wrist, and then their mouths moving together, saliva and teeth and tongues and no thoughts other than 'fuck' and 'Stark'_ —and he represses a shiver, turns.

"What?" he asks, locking his emerald eyes onto Tony's deep brown ones and keeping his expression carefully blank.

Tony swallows, his eyes dipping down to the hollow of Loki's throat before snapping back up again, and Loki wonders if he, too, is remembering. "I'm just wondering," he says slowly, like the words are painful for him to get out, "if you're doing okay."

_Where is this coming from?_ Loki thinks, but out loud he just says, "I'm fine, Stark."

Tony does not seem to remember that Pepper is standing directly behind him, because he lifts Loki's arm until it's nearly level with his face. He rolls up his shirtsleeves slightly, and traces his thumb over the now nearly-faded burn mark on his wrist.

"You sure?" he asks, evenly, still staring into Loki's eyes.

Loki clears his throat. "Positive," he replies, before pulling his arm—okay, now technically Stark's holding his hand, but he's not counting that—out of Tony's grasp and stepping back.

Tony does not break eye contact, though; he just stands there and stares and Loki stares right back, his hands in his pockets now, wondering what exactly this is supposed to achieve, wondering why he hasn't walked away yet. He sees a muscle twitch in Tony's jaw and thinks he's going to say something, but then Pepper makes a sound behind them, and they both jump, startled.

"Tony," she says, petulantly. "You promised you were going to take me somewhere _special_."

Loki's entire body tenses before he can stop himself, and he has to cut his eyes away from Tony's in order to regain some semblance of control over his muscles. Not jealous, he thinks, and is surprised when he realizes how hard his fists are clenched inside his jacket.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," and now Tony's turning away too, all charm and ease and suaveness again, tucking his fingers under Pepper's chin. He leads her off and pauses only to turn and call, "Catch you later, Shakespeare."

It's an old nickname and Loki finds himself smiling as he heads in the direction of the college's entrance.

/

Tony and Pepper make one stop, the bar area of the Union, before heading up to Tony's dorm room. They set down the bottles of Stolichnaya and Sobieski, and Tony pulls out two glasses from the bathroom cabinet. He and Pepper sit on the floor together, and she watches him pour their drinks, his fingers wrapped carefully around the necks of the bottles.

"To a week and a half at college without any incident," says Tony, lifting his glass.

"Hear, hear," says Pepper, clinking her glass against his, and they drink. The vodka burns on the way down, and settles hot in his stomach. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, a bit shakily, loving how immediate the effects of this drink are, how his senses go fuzzy around the edges and everything seems softer.

Even so, he cannot stop thinking about Loki, and the way he was looking at him, barely ten minutes ago. It was without malice, without anger, stripped of everything except a tiny bit of curiosity and maybe a hint of sadness which Tony does not want to think too deeply about. He remembers the rush of warmth he felt when his skin contacted Loki's, and the way Loki allowed him to look at the burn—Tony knows no one else is even aware of its existence and he kind of feels privileged, in a weird way—and he takes another sip of his drink, because he does not want to get into all these weird, mixed feelings he has for his ex-boyfriend right now.

A moment later, he looks up and Pepper's right there, her lips red and upturned, and he sets down his drink—well, he sets down the bottle, and he has no idea when he started drinking from that instead of the glass but he's not going to question it—and leans in and kisses her. She kisses back, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning further into him, and he has to maneuver himself so that he won't knock over the Stolichnaya by accident but then he can spread his legs, wrap his arms around her waist—

His cell phone rings.

Pepper makes a protesting noise in his mouth, but he pulls away from her and answers the phone anyway, licking his lips and swallowing down a taste of vodka before saying, rather hoarsely:

"Hello?"

"Anthony. Why haven't you emailed me yet?"

It's Howard. Of course it's Howard. Tony winces visibly and mutters, "Hey to you too, Dad," and wishes he could pretend he didn't see the flash of excitement in Pepper's eyes.

"Don't be smart with me, boy," Howard says. "Just tell me why you have not contacted me since you started this year of college."

"I haven't had time, I guess," Tony lies, because honestly he's had plenty of time, but between receiving a blowjob from his ex-boyfriend-turned-roommate and trying to come up with new theories in physics class with Bruce and getting drunk with Pepper, he hasn't really _wanted_ to message his father.

"Make time," Howard snarls, and Tony's expecting him to ask how the science classes are going, and it's on the tip of his tongue to start talking about string theory, which is why he almost chokes on his own saliva when his father's next question is:

"How is Pepper? Is she around? May I speak to her?"

Sick. Fucking sick, Tony thinks, handing his girlfriend the phone and sliding away from her. He takes another, longer swig of vodka; wonders if he can convince Thor to hit him hard enough so that he passes out for the evening. Absently, his thoughts wander to Loki, and he wonders if he's having a better time with whoever he went to meet.

Five minutes later, giggling hysterically, Pepper says goodbye to Howard and hands the phone back to Tony. _I'm going to have to sterilize this,_ he thinks, before speaking to his dad again.

"Anthony. I will caution you. Pepper is a fine woman. Do not let the charms of… _others_ cause you to lose her."

"Yeah, whatever, Dad, spare me the lecture." Tony hangs up on his father before he can say anything else and tosses his phone onto the bed. He fits the corks back into their respective bottles and stands up.

Pepper's on her feet too, in an instant, frowning. "Why are you getting up?" she whines.

He hands her the bottle of Sobieski and smiles tightly. "I want you out," he says. "I don't have you in here so you can spend half the night talking to my dad."

Her frown turns into a pout. "Tony… let me stay, _please?_ " Her hand comes out and she trails her fingers down his chest. "You won't regret it…"

"I think I know what I will and won't regret," Tony says, walking to the door and opening it. "See you later, Pep."

She's glaring at him now as she walks out, the bottle clinking against her rings. She opens her mouth to say something else, but he slams the door in her face, then lets out a breath and leans against the wall for a second, shutting his eyes.

Then he moves back to the center of the room, picks up the bottle of Stolichnaya, and starts drinking again.


	10. Wrap the Night Around Me

Thanos is waiting for Loki at the entrance to Berkeley, leaned against a sleek black car, his arms folded across his chest. He smiles and walks forward, giving Loki a quick hug before saying:

"You ready?"

Loki nods, and they get in the car. Thanos drives with the air conditioner on full blast, the radio cranked up to nearly full volume. He's got it on a heavy metal station, but when they cut corners too fast the signal fades a little and the vicious guitar riffs are momentarily interrupted by soft violins and sad cellos. It's a little like driving in a weird alternate universe, but it's not exactly bad.

When they get to the restaurant, Thanos parallel parks—something Loki never actually got used to—and they go inside, the laptop case the only thing between them. A waiter shows them to an empty booth and, after taking their drink orders, leaves them alone with the menus.

"So you wanted my help finding less morbid quotes," says Loki, playing absently with the end of his jacket sleeve, still remembering the way Tony held his hand under that tree. He finds himself wishing he hadn't pulled away, then wonders why he's purposefully torturing himself with thoughts of a relationship that is never going to happen again, then feels a slight flush rising up his cheeks when he realizes that Thanos replied to his question and is now looking at him with an expression in his eyes of barely concealed amusement.

"I'm sorry, I… drifted off," he apologizes lamely, and thinks, _damn you, Stark._ "What did you say?"

Thanos' smile grows. "I said yeah, I need your help softening my reputation before I try to sell out t-shirts to the general public."

Loki laughs a little. "How about you try this one instead; it's inspirational and beautiful without bringing death to mind: _'And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.'_ "

"Shakespeare?" Thanos guesses, and Loki nods. Before he can stop it, he hears Tony calling him that again, and a small, sad little smile grows on his face.

"Did you memorize that quote?" Thanos asks, typing it in, apparently oblivious to Loki's expression. "Because that's sort of brilliant."

"I memorized it, yes." Now he's remembering reading _As You Like It_ to Tony in the library in the beginning of their senior year, remembers laughing when Tony said, _"I liked Macbeth better,"_ and kissing him, replying, _"You only liked_ Macbeth _better because I read it to you naked in your bedroom."_

He misses Tony, and he hates himself for it.

"What about song quotes?" Thanos is asking, his fingers hovering over the keys on his laptop.

" _'My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again, sure as the dust that floats high in June, when moving through Kashmir,'_ " says Loki absently, because it's one of his favorite songs, not because it reminds him of Tony and hot summer afternoons spent lounging at the pool with him while Led Zeppelin blared from the classic rock station on the radio.

"Wish I had thought of that one," says Thanos, impressed, glancing at Loki for a second before typing it in. And then:

"Hey, you okay?"

Loki neutralizes his expression and folds his hands across the table. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Thanos hesitates, then shrugs. The waiter comes back with their drinks, they place their orders—Thanos gets the fettuccini because he always gets that when he comes here, and Loki gets pizza because he knows every Italian restaurant has that and he doesn't want to look at the menu—and then they're alone again.

Loki spends the next half hour giving Thanos various quotes to use, eating pizza, and wondering vaguely what Tony is doing right now—not like he cares, he's just curious. He's running out of quotes—which means there's going to be a fucking _silence_ and Thanos is going to realize that outside of intelligence, Loki really does not have much to offer in the way of companionship—when suddenly Thanos closes his laptop, pushes aside his half-empty bowl of fettuccini, and asks, all serious:

"You seeing anyone?"

The question is so startling that it causes Loki's mouth to drop open for a second, and a tiny slice of pepperoni falls back onto the plate. Thanos laughs; Loki does not.

"I'm single," he says, carefully, after a few seconds. "I had a boyfriend once, but… he cheated."

Thanos frowns. "Sorry to hear that," he says. "Who was he?"

More hesitation. "Tony," Loki says finally. "Tony Stark. You met him the other night."

A look of comprehension dawns on Thanos' face. "Ah yeah," he says. "So that explains why you were looking at each other like that."

Loki wants to ask, _looking at each other like what,_ but the words are stuck in his throat, and he cannot say them. He's blushing again; he tugs on his jacket sleeves and looks away from Thanos and says:

"I would like to leave now."

"Oh, sure," says Thanos, clearly unaware that he's upset Loki at all. He sets two twenties on the table beside his plate and they walk out, get in his car, and drive back to Berkeley with the same infusion of classical music and heavy metal blaring into their ears.

Once Thanos has parked his car, he and Loki get out and walk on the side of the road, the sun slowly setting ahead of them. They are quiet for a long time, but it's not uncomfortable, and when they have nearly reached their dorm Loki says:

"We should do this again sometime."

Thanos pauses mid-step and grins. "You asking me on a date, Laufeyson?"

Loki shrugs. "Guess so," he says, and when they kiss, it's hardly surprising. Loki trails his thumb over the lines on Thanos' face and marvels at how similar they are in looks.

Eventually, they pull apart and walk into the dorm together. Clint and Natasha are sitting on a couch in the main area downstairs, and Natasha grins at Loki knowingly, but he doesn't rise to the bait. They head up to the third floor, and there's a final kiss, with Thanos running his fingers through Loki's hair, before they go to their respective rooms.

Tony's drunk.

It's obvious the minute Loki opens the door, and he wonders why he's surprised. Tony is curled up in a ball on his bed, the bottle of Stolichnaya wrapped up protectively against his stomach, dripping a little onto the blankets. Loki winces, shrugs off his jacket, sets his room key down, and walks over.

"Stark," he says. "Stark, wake up."

Tony opens his eyes instantly. They're over-bright and dilated, and Loki's wondering if maybe he should get him to the nurses' station when Tony sits up, sets the bottle aside, and says, his speech slurred:

"You were with _Thanos,_ weren't you?"

He says 'Thanos' like it's poison, his upper lip curled in disgust. Loki shrugs.

"Why do you care? You were with Pepper. Where is our favorite little slut, by the way?"

"What I do with my trash is my business," says Tony, rubbing his temples like he's trying to wake up from a very bad dream. "Besides, I don't see you bringing anyone in here, either."

"That's because unlike you, I have the decency to leave my dates at the door." Loki folds his arms and steps back as Tony staggers to his feet, staring at the bottle of vodka as though he could will more liquid into it with his mind.

"Decency is my middle name, darling," Tony drawls, grinning now.

Loki rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He waves his hand in the air, a careless gesture. "You smell like a whiskey factory. Go shower or something."

Tony sticks out his lower lip, moves forward, and touches Loki at the base of his throat. It's not much, but it's enough to give Loki pause; his breath catches and for a second he thinks he's going to fall.

Then he regains control of himself and calmly—or as calmly as he possibly can, because Tony hasn't moved his thumb and he looks startlingly sober for someone who just drank half a bottle of vodka on his own—tells Tony to go away.

"Not until I repay you for what you gave me," says Tony, and then they're kissing. Tony's mouth is hot and wet on his, and Loki wonders how much of this he's going to remember in the morning.

They step backwards, falling onto Loki's bed, and Tony's on top, his teeth scraping Loki's lower lip as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt. The kisses are messy and taste of liquor; they are short and fast and teasing until Loki grips Tony's shoulder—bare now, because his shirt's halfway across the room and when did _that_ happen—and says, "Get on with it, Stark," and Tony laughs and kisses him deeper, slower. An almost pained sound pulls itself from the back of Loki's throat, a sound of want and need and desperation, and despite the alcohol clouding his brain Tony finds himself wondering how long Loki's been wishing this would happen. They pull off their pants—Loki's hands are shaking, and he hopes Tony doesn't notice—and then their boxers, and then they're naked, and Loki wonders, _where do we go from here?_

Tony leans down and slides his tongue in a slow, tantalizing arc along the side of Loki's neck, and the taller man shivers, another soft moan escaping his lips. He can feel Tony's fingers pressing against his inner thighs as he kisses, bites, and licks lower down, closer to his sternum, and it occurs to him, suddenly, that this is _happening,_ and he jerks, pushing Tony away.

"The fuck?" Tony says, looking up at him, his face flushed, his eyes dark. "What are you doing?"

Loki's shaking his head. Fuck off, Stark, he wants to say, but what comes out is a half-hearted, "It's too _fast,_ " and Tony frowns. He crawls back up, leaning over Loki, his hand on his jaw, his eyes never leaving Loki's.

"If you really think you don't want this, you get up, Laufeyson, and you walk away from me right now. Put your clothes on and walk out and lie some more." Tony's eyes are hard on his, and after a few seconds Loki drops his gaze.

Tony smirks. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he says, before leaning in and ravishing Loki's mouth with his own again. Loki grasps Tony's hips, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him bleed, punishing him for making him want this, drawing a moan of aching want from the back of his throat.

_I'll kill him,_ Loki thinks.

_Fucking manipulative little shit,_ Tony thinks at the same time, but when he finally gets the lubricant ready and goes between Loki's legs, both of them are long past the point of protest.


	11. Can the Devil Speak True?

It becomes a regular habit for them, the sex.

There is a sort of routine they fall into: it's not like a nightly thing, more of a 'whenever Tony's drunk' or 'when Loki's feeling particularly upset and doesn't want to say so, so he just flings himself at Stark and who is Tony to say no to those eyes' or 'if they've seen each other with Thanos or Pepper and come in the dorm room fighting like wildcats and end up tearing each other's clothes off before they even make it to the bed' sort of thing. (Okay, so that does mean it's pretty much a nightly thing, but Tony's in denial and Loki is far too proud to admit that he's fucking his ex-boyfriend.)

They've also stopped talking about it in the mornings; and generally Tony is very good about getting out of Loki's bed after the sex, or vice versa—although there have been times when Loki wakes up at three in the morning with his legs wrapped around Tony's, and he has to wake him up and force him to go to his own bed, wishing the whole time that he could just stay right where he was. And for some reason it's not hard to hide from Thanos, who "wants to take things slow" anyway, because he's still getting over his last breakup and he's more focused on the shirts right now than anything else. Pepper is sort of a bigger problem, especially when she texts Tony right as he's about to go down on Loki, but at least she's okay with him going to her dorm, and never the other way around.

In late September, the drama department announces that they are going to be putting on Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ for this year's Globe Theater Performance. It strikes Loki, who is taking an acting class to help with his literature studies, and he signs up to try out. Thanos' name is on the list as well, and Loki smiles a little bit—he might be satiating his lust with Tony Stark, but he still likes Thanos.

As he's walking down the hall towards the door that leads to the astronomy building, a hand claps down on his shoulder. He jumps, turns, and sees Thor standing behind him with one of those ridiculously huge smiles on his face. The brown-haired girl—June or Jane or Jo—is with him, also smiling, and he feels a stab of something like suspicion in his stomach.

"What do you want from me, Thor?" he asks cautiously.

"Merely to congratulate you, brother, on your relationship!" Thor looks so happy that Loki almost _(almost)_ feels guilty about being so snappish with him all the time.

And then his brain fully registers Thor's sentence, and for a second he's panicking—what in the hell does Thor mean exactly by _relationship?_ How much does he know? What has he heard? Has Tony spilled their dark secret in a drunken state? Oh god, he's going to _kill_ him—

"Relationship? With whom?" Loki can feel his mouth tightening around the words, but Thor doesn't notice and if Jane sees she doesn't mention it.

"Thanos, of course," Thor says, laughing, and Loki visibly relaxes. "Who did you think I meant, brother?"

The dark-haired man shakes his head. "No one," he says. And then, "I have to go, Thor. I will see you later." He turns and runs, almost, to get out of the building, his heart racing; he rounds the corner and almost runs into Tony Stark, who is smoking a cigarette, his laptop tucked under his arm.

"This keeps happening," Tony says, laughing, like he has any _right_ to be laughing, the pompous asshole, and Loki feels a surge of anger rush through his body and does not know why.

"Stark," he says evenly. "We have to stop… doing what we're doing."

Tony pauses, brown eyes flicking over Loki's face, and then he drops his cigarette and crushes it beneath his foot. He does not pause to look around before pushing Loki against the wall, and Loki has to swing his laptop case to the side to avoid it getting crushed between them. His eyes narrow and he hisses:

"Let me go," but Tony does not. His grip tightens against Loki's shoulder, and he leans in and kisses him, brutally, hard enough to draw blood. Tony bites Loki's lower lip roughly before pulling away, and Loki feels his anger mixing with something else, something far more familiar and even less welcome.

"We don't have to stop anything," says Tony. There are tiny droplets of blood on his mouth, and he licks them away almost obscenely. "C'mon, Laufeyson. You can't deny you enjoy it."

Loki's thinking of Thanos, and of how Thor thinks he's in a relationship with him; it's probably what everyone thinks, and it's probably partially true, although Thanos has never actually _asked him out_ so to speak, and because of his request to take it slow they've never progressed beyond heavily making out under some trees during their study breaks.

And then Loki's thinking of Tony, and that rush he feels when he looks down and sees his pupils dilate, his irises darken; the sensual exotic taste of his mouth; the way he manages to fall apart under Tony's touch, every time; how broken Tony sounds when he's screaming Loki's name. He can feel his cheeks flushing, and he's angry all over again, but this time he knows why.

"I cannot do this to Thanos anymore," he says. "There's auditions for a play coming up in a few days; both of us are going and I do not want to screw things over with him, especially if we both land a role."

He expects Tony to tell him he's being fucking ridiculous, or that he needs to shut up and skip class and go back to the dorm right now, or even for Tony to laugh and ask him why he's talking about staying faithful to a guy when he's been running around so casually these last few weeks without seeming to care. What he does not expect, however, is for Tony to ask what play they're auditioning for. But he does, and Loki tells him, one eyebrow raised in slight confusion.

"Why do you care, Stark?"

Tony has a devious smirk on his face now, one that Loki recognizes all too well. "No reason," he says. He glances at his watch, and the smirk grows. "Now if you'll excuse me, Loki, I have to go meet Pepper in her dorm." He turns and walks off, still with that shit-eating grin on his face, and Loki wants to take a knife and impale him with it.

/

Auditions are held on Friday of that week, and Loki shows up early, with a copy of _Macbeth_ and a cup of coffee. Thanos is there too, wearing one of his custom-made t-shirts, and he smiles and kisses Loki over the glowing screen of his laptop as he sits down.

"Hey, Lo'," he says. "I didn't know you were trying out too."

Loki nods. "I want the part of Macbeth," he says, and Thanos laughs.

"Doesn't everyone?" he says, and for the first time it occurs to Loki that this is a _competition,_ and he's not sure why, but he gets the feeling that something critical could be lost between he and Thanos if one of them gets a part and the other does not. He looks at the computer screen and smiles to himself when he sees that Thanos is looking at SparkNotes.

"Trying out for a play you don't even get?" he teases lightly, and Thanos rolls his eyes.

"We can't all be literature majors," he grunts, but he's smiling.

"No, that's just for the best," agrees Loki, and Thanos kisses him again to shut him up.

A little while later, they're sitting comfortably—Thanos has set his laptop aside and is playing Fruit Ninja on his phone while Loki lounges with his feet in Thanos' lap and his book propped up on his legs and the coffee on the floor within reaching distance—when the door opens. Loki does not look, but Thanos does, and his eyebrows rise.

"Hmm, who is it?" Loki asks, a bit sleepily, taking a sip of his coffee and turning the page.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Thanos says slowly, "but isn't that… Tony Stark? And his girlfriend? What's her name, some condiment or other, right?"

Loki kind of chokes on his coffee and sits up in a very undignified manner, his long legs sprawling everywhere before managing to land his feet on the floor. He arcs his neck backwards, and there's Tony, sitting in the back, arm slung across Pepper's shoulders, eyes darting around the room. He spots Loki, makes eye contact, and a look spreads across his face, like the cat who got the cream.

"Jesus fuck," Loki mutters, clenching his fists. He turns back around and Thanos glances at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine." It occurs to Loki that _this_ is why Tony asked him what play was being put on, and he thinks for a moment that he's going to be sick.

When Tony comes down a few minutes later, Loki isn't surprised at all. He takes a sip of coffee and tries to ignore how badly he's shaking, an effect which is not entirely caused by his caffeine consumption. "Stark," he says, "what are you doing here?"

There's that shit-eating grin again, but this time it's dashed over with a hint of something like self-deprecation. "I'm doing the same exact thing you and Death Shirts over there are doing. I'm trying out. I love Shakespeare, or didn't you know that?"

Loki's not sure if he wants to kill Tony or fuck him senseless under the stage. "You loved it in high school," he snarls, "because I read you the plays in a way you'd understand."

"Acting in a Shakespearean play is far different than reading an abridged version of one," Thanos says with his eyes glued to his phone screen.

"Like you're one to talk," Loki mutters, and both of them laugh. Tony's eyes are moving between them now, curious, and— _jealous? No way._

"I know that," Tony says coolly. "I liked _Macbeth_ when I was eighteen; I'm gonna like it now when I'm twenty."

Loki glances up at him because there's something in his voice which is slightly off. He's going through all the motions, all his usual bullshit attitude and sarcasm, but his eyes—his eyes are flat. Dead. It's weird and chilling and Loki doesn't like it. (Granted, Thanos usually has pretty emotionless eyes too, but most of the time Loki isn't looking into his eyes when they're together so it doesn't really matter.) Tony is usually so expressive and Loki wants to ask him what the hell is going on, but the doors are opening more often now, and Pepper's calling for Tony to come back to her, and so he moves to the edge of the aisle and does a little bow at Loki and Thanos.

"Break some legs, gentlemen," he says, before heading back up to his girlfriend.

"Does he mean it?" Thanos asks; thumb slicing through three bananas and two watermelons at once.

"No," says Loki quietly. "He probably doesn't."


	12. Dressed in Borrow'd Robes

_"Is this a dagger which I see before me,_  
 _The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee._  
 _I have thee not, and yet I see thee still._  
 _Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible_  
 _To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but_  
 _A dagger of the mind, a false creation,_  
 _Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?_  
 _I see thee yet, in form as palpable_  
 _As this which now I draw."_

This is the passage from _Macbeth_ which Loki reads for his audition, in clear, carrying tones. He only glances down at his book to catch a single word and then he's right back to making eye contact with the people in the audience, using a trick from an old theater instructor: "Look at the front row, talk to the back row". He can see Tony, sitting with his arm slung across Pepper's shoulders, staring at him, but he ignores him and reads until Macbeth's lines are done. The students applaud—and for once they don't sound like they're being forced to do so. He gets off the stage, goes back to his seat. Thanos hugs him, hard, grinning.

"You read yours better than I did," he says.

"No." Loki ducks his head, hiding the blush on his cheeks, smiling faintly. Thanos touches his jaw lightly; the gesture is simple but holds a startling amount of intimacy, and Loki wonders when it got here.

"You were definitely better than your ex," Thanos mutters, rolling his eyes. Loki gives him a look.

"He wasn't so bad." Actually, Tony read surprisingly well for someone who claimed throughout all of high school that Shakespeare wasn't fun unless you were drunk. "He might get the part."

Thanos shakes his head and kisses Loki's temple, and again he is surprised by the intimate nature of the touch. " _You_ are Macbeth, Lo'. Not Tony Stark."

Then there are tryouts for the rest of the characters—Thanos and Loki stay seated and watch as Tony goes and tries out for both Duncan and Macduff. He reads Macduff with passion and gives an underlying sense of grief to Duncan's lines, and Loki finds himself wishing Pepper weren't here, if for no other reason than so he could give Tony a proper congratulations afterwards. Even Thanos acknowledges that Tony is talented, and Loki cannot keep a small smile from flicking up the corners of his lips.

After the auditions are over, as everyone is leaving the room, Loki picks up his now empty coffee cup and walks over to where Tony is standing.

"You did well, Stark," he says.

"He was the _best,_ " Pepper corrects, and Loki does not miss Tony's eye roll.

"Well naturally, of course I was the best," he says, "but Jesus, Pepper, give Loki some credit. He put _life_ into Macbeth."

Loki rolls his eyes too, because he can hear the sarcasm in Tony's voice. "Hardly," he says, and Thanos comes up behind him, still tapping away on his iPhone.

"Got yourself an actor boyfriend," Tony says conversationally to Thanos. "He should come with a caution sign on his forehead: Handle with Care."

Pepper giggles, and Loki wants to ask her if she knows her boyfriend has ridden him until they're both ready to pass out from aching exhaustion.

"He's got the part," says Thanos, and his voice is tight.

"Maybe," Tony shrugs, not looking at Loki. He's holding Pepper around the shoulders again; suddenly she says:

"If Tony doesn't get the main part I won't go see the play, you know. I think Shakespeare is _boring._ "

Loki glares at her, then at Tony. He can feel all the muscles in his body tensing up; abruptly he turns away from the three of them. "Excuse me," he mutters, and storms off. Outside, it's sunny, and he walks for a while, struggling to clear his head. After a while, he goes to the library and spends the rest of the day holed up in there, ignoring texts from Thanos until the late evening. They go out together, but it's not any fun for Loki, who cannot get over the way Tony was looking at him in the theater, when he was on stage. It was during his Macduff monologue, and he was keeping eye contact with Loki the entire time, and though he was speaking clearly it was obvious he was nervous, and using Loki as an anchor to keep his voice, his movements, steady.

Loki cannot stop wondering why Tony was looking at him for support, rather than Pepper. (Or rather, he thinks he knows, and shudders to actually admit it to himself.) His date with Thanos ends early, and they go up to the third floor of their dorm, and Loki presses his fingers against Thanos' wrist and kisses him, and Thanos murmurs, "See you tomorrow," against his lips, but the tone of his voice is _I love you_ and Loki's not ready for that, so he just nods and goes in his dorm room.

The minute he's inside and has put down his things, Tony's pinning him against the wall, kissing him roughly, and Loki finds himself gripping his wrists and kissing back. They tear each other's clothes off and bite at each other's skin, and Loki does not care that the marks will still be visible tomorrow.

"Why…" he says, when Tony's got him on the floor and is getting the lubricant. "Why are you… such an asshole?"

"I don't like his attitude," Tony grunts, lips brushing Loki's throat, and he wonders how in the world Tony knew that he was referring to the way he'd treated Thanos earlier.

"He hates you too… and so do I," Loki mumbles, then lets out a gasp of pleasure mixed with pain as Tony begins to spread him open.

Tony pauses, looks at Loki. His eyes are darkened with sex and lust and Loki's never seen a more beautiful sight. "How come you're lying here, then, even though you swore to me you weren't going to anymore?"

Loki does not have an answer for that, so he drags Tony down and kisses him, hard, and when the older man pulls away Loki tells him to get on with it, for god's sake, so he does. Loki ends up with rug burn, but he doesn't care, no matter what he tries to tell himself. It's a pleasant ache, like the weakness in his muscles, and he finds himself tracing a path down Tony's throat to his sternum.

"You really did read well today," he says quietly. "I wasn't lying."

"I know." Tony grins, and Loki chuckles before he can stop himself.

"You self-centered egomaniac."

"Ah, you love it though." There's a heaviness behind the teasing in Tony's voice, and Loki does not want to think about the implications—nor the truth in the statement—so he just kisses him again, carding his fingers through his soft brown hair.

Neither of them ever mentions how, in the morning, they wake up still tangled around each other on the floor, Loki's fingers in Tony's hair, Tony's hand on Loki's arm.

/

The following week, Tony wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing. It's a text from Pepper; evidently she's very excited because it's in all caps:

_"THE AUDITION RESULTS ARE IN OH TONY COME SEE."_

And there's a note, too, on the table between he and Loki's bed; it reads simply, _'Congratulations, Stark,'_ in a familiar, elegant script. He thinks, _oh god, I got the part,_ and cannot get dressed and down to the drama building fast enough.

There's a crowd around the posted sheet; people examining it, seeing what their assigned parts are, screaming with excitement, falling back to allow their friends a chance to look. Tony pushes through, looks… and his mouth falls open.

Loki is Macbeth. Not like Tony is surprised.

But Tony is Macduff. And that's just as good.

The thing that gets him, though, is that Thanos—that assfuck, that guy who thinks he's so much better than Tony just because he has what Tony wants now—is Banquo. Which means that, unless Tony's remembering the play wrong, he's going to be seeing a lot of both his ex and his ex's new boyfriend during the rehearsals.

He pinches the space between his eyebrows and sighs.

As if this year wasn't already fucking long enough.


	13. All my Pretty Ones?

_Screwed seven ways to Sunday_ is the only phrase that comes to Tony's mind when he thinks of _Macbeth,_ and who he's going to be performing with. For one thing, he cannot fucking _stand_ Thanos; for another, he just knows that Loki is going to pull that self-righteous bullshit again pretty soon— _no, sorry Stark, I'm in a 'committed relationship' now; we can't have sex anymore_ —and, quite frankly, he doesn't want to hear it.

If Tony is going to be one hundred percent honest with himself—which of course he isn't, but if he _was_ —he just doesn't want his time with Loki to end. These past few weeks—okay, nearly a month, when did that happen—have been sort of really incredible, even if Tony won't admit it to anyone.

Jesus Christ, he never realized he actually _missed_ Loki.

In the week between casting and the start of rehearsals, Loki seems to make a point of avoiding Tony, even when they're alone. If he's not out with Thanos, he's hanging around in the astronomy department, or pulling shit on Dean Nick Fury—which could probably get him expelled if the dean could prove he'd done anything. Once, Tony saw Loki talking to Steve, but neither of them ever mention anything. The sex has stopped too, and that infuriates Tony more than anything else, mostly because he was actually starting to look forward to it.

The day rehearsals start, Loki and Tony have to wake up early, which puts Tony in a bad mood. That and the fact that Loki keeps texting Thanos, laughing as he dresses, looking genuinely _happy._ Finally Tony slips on a Black Sabbath t-shirt and says, rather sarcastically:

"So now suddenly Thanos is the new preparation for rehearsals?"

Loki glances over at him. "Would you rather I speak to you?"

"No, no, please, by all means, continue ignoring the fuck out of me like you've been doing all week. I don't mind."

"Whatever you say." Loki sneers, and Tony can't decide if he wants to kill him or fuck him senseless. In the end, he just storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut. Even with the water running, he can hear Loki's laughter.

When they are both leaving, Tony says, "Loki… could you maybe not act like you and Thanos are getting engaged during rehearsals?"

"Oh what, so you can enjoy your uninterrupted love fest with Pepper?"

"Uh, no, so that I don't have to watch you two sticking your tongues down each other's throats when you're supposed to be reading lines."

"So basically this request is nothing more than another favor for Tony Stark."

Tony lifts up the corner of his mouth in a half grin. "Everything should be seen as a favor to me."

Loki's eyes flash and narrow dangerously.

"Tell me, Stark, when the last time was that _you_ did anything for _me?_ "

It's on the tip of Tony's tongue to say _the last time we fucked,_ but he highly doubts that's what Loki meant. He opens his mouth; shuts it. Loki sneers again, but this time it does not reach his eyes.

"Exactly," he snarls, before storming out.

Tony curls his fingers around the last cigarette in his Marlboro pack, lights it, and barely avoids hitting the wall with his fist as he follows.

/

Pepper is already in the drama hall by the time Tony gets there, looking as tired as he feels. She's texting someone on her phone, and Tony shudders to think it might be Howard.

"Hey," she says, when he walks up to her. "Ready to kick everyone's asses?"

He nods without replying—without words for perhaps the first time in his life—because he's just spotted Loki and Thanos. They are reading together from Loki's copy of _Macbeth,_ and they look so fucking happy and Tony is not jealous, not at all.

_They're acting engaged,_ he thinks, irrationally, and his eyes narrow.

Suddenly a hand clamps down on his shoulder—Thor, with Bruce next to him. "Anthony!" Thor booms, because he's never learned the concept of silence. "My brother told me you are performing in this play with him!"

"Small world, huh?" Tony grunts, and then, to Bruce:

"How'd you manage to get up so early?"

Bruce shrugs. "Kinda had that physics paper to finish, kinda wanted to see you make yourself look like an idiot onstage."

"Such a great friend, Banner. Hey, you wouldn't mind writing my physics paper too while you're at it?"

Bruce just sighs, and Tony claps him on the shoulder.

"Thank you," he says, before kissing Pepper and waving to the three of them. "Sorry, gotta run; acting's serious business and all that." He walks down to where Thanos and Loki are sitting and plasters on a huge fake smile.

"So I was reading over a summary of _Macbeth_ the other day, and it turns out that Macbeth—" he points at Loki— "kills Banquo." He points at Thanos. "How difficult is it going to be, killing your lover?"

Loki stands up. "Actually, Stark, Macbeth has Banquo killed. Then he's visited by his ghost and goes insane."

"Oh, pardon." Tony holds up his hands. "I forgot I'm talking to a goddamn Shakespeare scholar."

"Yes, and thank you for acknowledging my status as 'scholar'." Loki smirks, and Tony wants to strangle him. He opens his mouth to fire back some nasty retort, but the director of the play calls them over then, and Thanos all but drags Loki away.

Once they are all given copies of the script, the director tells them to highlight their specific lines and stage directions, as well as begin looking at personal cues. She gives the prop manager and lights controller their first assignments, then begins a scene read-through. It's the scene in which the witches are prophesying about the future of Macbeth versus the future of Banquo. Loki reads beautifully, of course, and Tony, watching the confidence with which he holds the stage, thinks, _why should Thanos get what I want?_ He kind of hates himself for thinking he can still have Loki for his own after what he did, but he hates Thanos even more.

Self-satisfied little prick.

When the scene is through, Tony finds himself jumping onstage, script clutched in his sweaty hand. He approaches Loki and pretends he doesn't see the wary expression that crosses his ex's face.

"Jesus, Laufeyson," he says. "How long have you been reading Shakespeare like some goddamn professional?"

Which is basically as close to an apology as Tony can force out, and Loki opens his mouth to give him a serious reply— _since high school, or have you forgotten?_ —then recognizes the half-buried compliment and shuts it again. A small smile twitches over his lips, and though it's gone as quickly as it appeared, neither Thanos nor Tony miss it.

"Thank you, Stark," he says. "It's nice to see you acknowledging real talent for once." He means it as a joke—sort of—but Tony doesn't laugh, just looks all serious and what the fuck's up with that, and it takes Loki a minute to realize that he's half-glaring in Pepper's direction.

Things are getting too heavy too fast, and Tony and Loki are just staring at each other—not angrily, just _looking,_ and there's some unreadable emotion in Loki's emerald eyes and is that _sadness_ on Stark's face?—so Thanos intervenes with:

"Did you like my performance too, Tony?" and Tony tears his gaze from Loki's and pulls the fake smile back up.

"Well," he says, "you're no Loki. But uh… for an amateur, you did good." He claps Thanos, who is now glaring at him, on the shoulder, and is only a little surprised when Loki snorts.

The director announces the next scene, in which Macduff discovers his family is dead. Tony glances at Loki again, and his smile twists into a self-deprecating smirk.

"Let's see how badly I fuck this up, huh?"

"You won't fuck up," Loki says quietly, but Tony has already gone to center stage with his script, and Thanos and Loki have to get off the stage.

As they watch Tony grieving as Macduff over the loss of his wife and children, Thanos turns to Loki.

"You still like him?"

Loki just makes a quiet sound in his throat in response. His gaze is on Tony, who is struggling to put the right amount of pained emotion in his voice.

Their eyes lock for a moment, and Loki mouths, _you have this._

Tony spends the rest of the morning wondering why that simple sentence made his heart pound so fucking hard.

/

Later, as Tony is heading from physics to engineering, he runs into Natasha, who grabs his arm and yanks him aside.

"So I heard what went on at _Macbeth_ practice today between you and Loki."

"How do you even _hear_ things at Berkeley?" asks Tony, folding his arms. "This is a college, after all, not—"

"Tony," Natasha interrupts, sounding impatient. "I heard you were practically undressing him with your eyes between a few scenes." Her look challenges him to deny it, and he scoffs in annoyance.

"In my defense, he was wearing a _really_ low-cut, skintight shirt."

"It's not really my business what you do," is all she says in reply. "But you're a fucking _idiot_ if you're still in denial about wanting him back."

_Needing him,_ Tony thinks suddenly, and is so startled by this that his mouth falls open a little.

Natasha smirks. "Told you," she says.

Tony regains control of his facial expressions as quickly as possible. "Gotta run, Nat. Gotta expand my horizons; broaden my mind. See you around." He almost runs to get away from her.

His phone buzzes as he crosses the street. Pepper's calling, and Tony's thumb hovers over the green 'call' button for half a second before he hits 'ignore' instead and shoves it back in his pocket.

He _almost_ smiles to himself as he walks inside the engineering building.


	14. Desire

After the first rehearsal, the amount of tension that has been running consistently between Loki and Tony since the semester started seems to abate slightly. They wouldn't say they've become friends, exactly, but they're getting along better than they have since high school, and that's saying something. Loki helps Tony run his lines, and Tony helps Loki run his, and neither of them ever say anything if they happen to see each other with Pepper or Thanos. (And if they occasionally still end up in bed together, all sweat-soaked sheets and tangled limbs and bruised throats, well, they don't really mention that, either.)

One evening, after a particularly strenuous day—in addition to _Macbeth,_ Loki's studying Old English in his linguistics class and Chaucer in his literature class and he has papers due in both—Loki is sitting alone at his laptop in the library when he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist.

"Hey, Lo'," Thanos whispers, settling himself down in the empty chair. "How's it going?"

"It's..." and here Loki hesitates, because he's never been one to complain, hates asking for help, but. Fucking _Christ,_ he's stressed.

"It's a bit much," he says finally, gesturing with a long-fingered, elegant hand at the stacks of books spread out before him.

Thanos arches an eyebrow, whistles low through his teeth, murmurs, "Goddamn." And then he grins and places his laptop on the table, and Loki knows what's coming, and, just for a second, he finds himself actually hating his boyfriend.

"Got something that'll distract you for sure," Thanos is saying, opening his laptop. "New idea for a t-shirt. How about that quote 'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death' on a bright red background with black ink blots all around it?"

Loki's eyes drift from his copy of Chaucer's _The Canterbury Tales_ to Thanos' highlighted _Macbeth_ script—with meticulous translations done by Loki in the margins—to his own laptop, where a half-hearted outline of his paper on Old English sits, the cursor still blinking by the last word. _No,_ he wants to say, angrily. _I don't have time for your fucking shirts._ The thought of Tony comes, unbidden, to the surface of his mind; it occurs to Loki that around Tony, he doesn't feel stressed. Not like this. Tony doesn't annoy him, the way Thanos can with the damn shirts. (Well, okay, Tony annoys him, but usually in a way that makes Loki unsure as to whether he wants to kill him or fuck him senseless.)

Perhaps Thanos sees this on Loki's face, because he abruptly shuts his laptop, tightens his smile. "It's okay, Lo'," he says. "We don't have to do that right now. It was a shit idea anyway." He stands up. "Let's go out; go get dinner at that Italian restaurant where we had our first date. We can go to my room after, if you want." There is something curiously hopeful in Thanos' voice when he says this, and it occurs to Loki that this is the first time Thanos has insinuated he wants sex.

Loki isn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "Sure," he says, standing as well. "Sounds great." He shuts his laptop, picks up his books. "Let me just go drop this off at the dorm and I'll be ready."

He and Tony's room is surprisingly empty—surprising, because Loki had assumed that with him gone Tony would've brought Pepper over for a drink, or had that new friend of his, James Rhodes, come over and help him work on his engineering project. He puts his laptop and books down on his bed, and leaves still curious as to where Tony is, and wondering why the hell he cares so much.

/

The restaurant is crowded and noisy this time, with faint gray curls of smoke drifting in from the bar area. Loki and Thanos select a table near the back and smile at each other over slightly greasy menus, both of them trying to ignore the fact that they don't have anything to say to each other outside of t-shirts, Shakespeare, and (apparently) sex. Even through the din, Loki can still hear the radio; they're playing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

"How about these lyrics for your next shirt?" he asks, half joking because the song makes no sense whatsoever, but Thanos isn't even listening, and Loki begins to hate himself for agreeing to come out tonight.

A waiter stops by to take their drink orders, then Loki leans across the table and asks:

"You feeling confident about the play?"

Thanos squeezes Loki's hand and smiles without responding, and Loki is about to get up and escape to the bathroom for at least thirty minutes when he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder and looks up to see none other than Tony Stark standing over him, Pepper glued to his side as usual.

"Laufeyson," he says, matter-of-factly, that familiar smirk playing around the edges of his mouth. "You're here too?"

Loki can feel his lips trying to smile, and quickly rearranges his features into a more neutral expression. "Just on a date, Stark, as are you."

"Well," says Tony. "What a coincidence. Pep and I just got here and it is crowded as hell. Mind if we join you?"

"Yes," says Thanos, just as Loki says, "No," and Thanos glares at him. Tony's smirk widens and he pulls two extra seats up for himself and Pepper.

"Nice to know we're so welcome here," he says, leaning on the table, all arrogance and sarcasm. Loki bites back a laugh. The waiter returns and looks momentarily irritated at having to take more drink orders, to which Tony asks, quite calmly, "Isn't this your _job?_ " and then orders white wine.

"Loki," says Pepper when the waiter has disappeared again, "how's Thor doing with… what's her name, Joan or June or whatever?"

"Jane," he replies, shooting Tony a _look._ "How do you know about her?"

"Tony told me." She smiles at her boyfriend, and he twitches up the corner of his lips without ever taking his eyes off Loki's. "But how _are_ they?"

"Fine, I suppose." Loki's distracted now, wondering why Tony would have cared enough to remember something like that about his family—and then it occurs to him _of course, Thor and Stark are friends,_ and he wishes he didn't feel so disappointed.

"Must be nice for Odin," Pepper is saying, "to have a son in a normal relationship."

Tony's fingers tighten momentarily against the edge of the table.

Loki shuts his eyes and grits his teeth before replying, as calmly as he can:

"Odin has many talents, but among them is not the ability to sire more than one child. I am not his biological son, therefore I am automatically less capable of pleasing him, regardless of my actions. My sexuality against Thor's can hardly have phased him, considering the fact that I'm adopted." Automatically he thinks of the cigarette burn on his wrist, and he glances down instinctively, only vaguely aware of Tony's eyes on him.

"What?" Pepper says, confused.

The waiter returns with their drinks and sets them down as Loki looks back up and asks, sneering:

"Were you born this dense, or did it come on gradually?"

Pepper blinks. Thanos clears his throat and mumbles something about ordering dinner because he's fucking _starving,_ and they all place their orders and hand in their menus. Tony is still looking at Loki over his wine glass, lips curved slightly over the edge, brushing the liquid inside. There is something almost dangerously sensual in his gaze, in the curve of his fingers on the glass stem, and Loki has to look away. He thinks of Tony's mouth on his, thinks of the way his back arches off the mattress, and feels his face heating up, red flags riding on his cheekbones.

"It's just hot in here," he says when Thanos asks if he's okay, and avoids Tony's smirk.

The rest of dinner is a stilted, awkward affair, punctuated only by occasional, heavy sighs from Pepper or sort of funny comments made by a slightly inebriated Tony. Thanos glares at Loki, as if it's _his_ fault Tony's sitting here. (Okay, maybe it sort of is, but Thanos should realize that Tony would've sat here regardless of whether he was welcome or not.) Loki can feel his ex's fingers brushing his thigh from time to time, between bites of fettuccini, and wonders—curious in spite of himself—exactly what it is Tony wants out of this evening.

Afterwards, when they are going to their respective cars, Thanos suddenly remembers he wanted to purchase something extra for Loki in the restaurant, and Pepper mentions the bathroom and goes back in as well, leaving Tony and Loki in the parking lot. The faintest scent of frost clings to the air.

"We're gonna run lines soon, right?" Tony asks suddenly, and Loki, startled, nods. He finds himself stepping closer to Tony and tells himself it's because he's cold.

"Thank you for joining us this evening, Stark. Even with that insufferable girlfriend of yours, you managed to make it a relatively pleasant ordeal."

"'Stark', still?" Tony asks, ignoring the jab at Pepper completely, moving closer too. He leans against the car, lips slightly parted, looking good with the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, and Loki swallows hard.

"You deserve nothing better," he mutters, closer now, and Tony chuckles low in his throat, hand coming out to brush slowly along the pale line of Loki's neck.

"Because I'm an arrogant rich bastard?" he suggests, voice strangely hoarse. They are less than an inch from each other now, irises darkening and darting to each other's lips, and Loki's hand comes up and catches Tony's, bringing it to his mouth, and he knows he shouldn't, but.

"Exactly," Loki says, and kisses Tony, tangling his fingers in his soft brown hair. He tastes the bitter flavor of wine mixed with the tomato sauce and it's not entirely unpleasant and Loki doesn't want to stop. Tony moves his jaw against Loki's in an interesting way that sends a chill running up the younger man's spine, and he can literally feel how badly Tony wants this, that this is the whole reason he pulled up his chair to begin with.

The restaurant door opens and they break apart so quickly that Loki stumbles back a little. Thanos comes out carrying a long-stemmed rose, a hopeful smile on his face, and Loki feels almost, but not quite, guilty. He takes the flower and kisses Thanos, ignoring Tony even though his heart is pounding hard enough to be visible through his shirt.

"Let's go," says Thanos, and Loki remembers the invitation to his dorm room and feels momentarily sick. They walk to Thanos' car and get in, and Loki does not allow himself to look back.

/

"I don't like how you look at Loki," Pepper says later, when they are in her dorm room, a half empty bottle of Stolichnaya between them.

Tony arches an eyebrow. "After rehearsing with the guy for three weeks about my character killing his, yeah, I guess I _would_ look at him kinda weird."

"It's not that." Pepper frowns. "It's… something else. Like tonight, at dinner? You looked at him like… I don't know, like you love him. Or something."

"Put down the vodka and get some sleep, honey," Tony replies, forcing himself to laugh and take another swallow from his own glass. "Me, in love with Loki Laufeyson? That'll be the day." He kisses her to shut her up, slides his hand up her skirt and hears her breath catch in her throat. He tells himself he isn't thinking of his ex as he slides his other hand in his pants, but even so, as his stomach muscles tighten and the climax draws nearer, the image of pale, lean, beautiful Loki flashes through his mind.

He comes with his mouth pressed hard on her shoulder and Loki's name threatening to push past his lips.


	15. Something Rotten in the State of Denmark

For Loki and Thanos, the ride back to the dorm is nearly silent, punctuated only by the music streaming from the radio. Loki stares absently out of the window, running his fingers over the almost silken petals of his rose, images of Tony's face playing through his mind. At some point he pricks his finger and a small droplet of blood wells up, ruby red against his pale skin. Loki winces, and Thanos glances over for half a second as he pulls into his place in the parking garage.

"Careful," he murmurs. There is something in his voice, something strange, but Loki cannot put his finger on what it is, so he chooses to ignore it.

They get out of the car and walk back to the dorm together, the raw moonlight hitting their shoulders, casting a soft, bluish glow over Loki's face. It accentuates the cold, almost unfeeling quality of Thanos' dark eyes; not for the first time, Loki finds himself wondering what he is doing with this guy, who is obsessed to an almost unhealthy degree with death, with the afterlife.

Thor and Jane are saying 'goodnight' on the front lawn of the dorm. Loki gives his brother a half-congratulatory smile and a small nod, and Thor, evidently delighted, calls:

"I look forward to seeing you perform _Macbeth,_ brother!"

Thanos chuckles over this in the elevator. "Thor's a nice guy, huh?"

"He's... enthusiastic," says Loki after some hesitation, and they both laugh. Thanos leans in and captures Loki's lips between his for a moment, and Loki starts to think maybe this evening won't be so terrible.

Once they are in Thanos' room—apparently his roommate is rarely in before one a.m.—they shed their jackets and sit on the bed, the rose laying between them with its one bloodstained thorn. There is a beat of silence, then Loki says quietly:

"Thanks for dinner. I really enjoyed it."

"So did I... even with our... company." Again there is that strange tone in his voice; again, Loki ignores it. His hand creeps over, brushing against Thanos' denim-clad thigh before resting on his arm. Their eyes lock, and Loki slides his hand down to Thanos', curling their fingers together.

"That won't happen again," he says.

"Good," Thanos murmurs, and then he kisses him, slowly, luxuriously, like he has eternity to get what he wants. Loki's free hand comes up and tangles itself in Thanos' soft brown curls; for a moment he lets himself go, but then—

He breaks away, hand falling to his side. "I'm sorry," Loki whispers, emerald eyes cutting away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, with the feeling of Thanos' disappointment. "I'm so sorry, but I can't. I can't."

He expects absolution, expects understanding. Instead, Thanos sneers, eyes darkening, and turns away, tugging his hand free.

"It's _Tony,_ isn't it," he spits out harshly, and this is the first time Loki has ever heard Thanos get even remotely angry, and it's strange, and a little bit... off. That coldness is back in his gaze, and Loki feels a chill run down the back of his neck.

"Tony?" he repeats, seeing his ex's face in his mind and remembering searing nights with him— _heat, passion, pain falling into pleasure, sex, sweat, fuckmeharderstarkohgod_ —and wondering if Thanos knows about tonight, if maybe they made a mistake, kissing in the parking lot.

Thanos grips his wrist, hard, and Loki winces.

"Yes, _Tony,_ " Thanos snarls. "I saw how you two looked at each other tonight. I see it in rehearsals too, sometimes. You claim you're over him, yet you won't fuck me now because of him. I'm not _stupid,_ Lo'."

Loki's heart starts to race. _What the fuck is going on?_ He recognizes the look on Thanos' face; Odin gets that same look when he's pissed. For no apparent reason, Loki thinks again of the burn on his wrist, and suddenly he wants out. (He knew he shouldn't have come from the moment he felt ill in the parking lot, and goddammit why can't he ever fucking _think?_ )

"There is nothing between me and Tony," he says, though of course that is a lie, and it tastes bitter coming out of his mouth. Thanos sees the lie in Loki's face, and gets angrier still.

"Anthony Stark has been my fucking competition now ever since I started dating you, Loki. It needs to stop."

"There is nothing between myself and Stark," Loki repeats, softly, rolling the end of the bedsheets between his fingers.

Thanos tightens his grip on Loki's wrist, causing him to look up again. There will be bruises later, and Loki isn't sure how he will be able to explain them.

"Prove it," Thanos spits, irises cold, almost dead.

Loki has to focus to avoid shaking. "What?"

"Prove that there is nothing between you two. Let me fuck you tonight; let me mark you mine, and mine alone." Thanos is leaning over him now, slowly pushing him back against the headboard, and Loki's heart starts racing for all the wrong reasons.

He finds himself questioning the absolute sanity of trying to present an emotion he doesn't even possess in regards to this man.

"I am yours," says Loki, and Thanos lifts his hand, and Loki thinks, _oh god, he's going to hit me; the abused never escape their abusers._

"Actions speak louder than words," Thanos replies, and the hand he's lifted comes down on Loki's skin almost in a caress. He curls his fingers against his cheek and Loki shivers, then sighs. He thinks for a second of Tony, who once promised to stay with him forever— _'if there is an afterlife, we're going together'_ —and who Loki is almost positive would be fucking _livid_ if he knew about this.

Then Thanos is reaching between the mattress and the box springs and pulling out—are those _handcuffs?_ —and Loki watches as his thin, pale wrist is attached to the headboard. He could fight, he knows this, but it's just this once, right? Maybe Thanos had more to drink at dinner than he'd let on.

Rough fingers snatch at his jaw and force his head to the front. Loki looks into his boyfriend's eyes and sees nothing, just that coldness, an almost inhuman determination as his fingers fall between them, to buttons and zippers and skin that's exposed too quickly.

"Let me show you how a _real_ lover does it," he snarls. "You will _never_ think of Tony again after this."

He thrusts in hard, suddenly, with no warning, and Loki bites his lip hard enough to break the skin in order to avoid screaming. Despite Thanos' convictions, Tony's face flashes through his mind, but then he lets his head fall back, gritting his teeth, thinking only, _I will not cry, I will not cry._

The handcuffs shake above them.

When its over, and Loki has blinked away sweat and swallowed the coppery taste of blood, he looks up, and there's Thanos, once again gentle and beautiful... and every bit as deadly as his obsession.

"Wow, Lo'..." he's saying, "we waited _this_ long for all _that?_ " He detaches the handcuffs and shakes his hair out of his eyes, and Loki stares at him, confused, wondering if he imagined everything.

"Unbelievable," Loki breathes, sliding off the mattress and pulling his clothes back on with painstaking slowness. It fucking _hurts;_ it never felt this bad with Stark. Thanos, still on the bed, watches him with his head tilted, like he's gaging his reactions, and Loki feels sick again.

Once he's dressed, he goes to the door, declining all of Thanos' pleas for him to stay. It's not just weird, the way his mood's gone back to normal. It's unsettling.

"See you in the morning, then, Macbeth?" Thanos asks finally, looking upset but genial, as he usually does when Loki turns down plans.

Loki nods, smiles shakily, and slips out. He cannot get to he and Tony's room fast enough. Once inside, he puts his key down, stumbles into the bathroom, and vomits until there's nothing left. Then, sore, ashamed, he rinses out his mouth and showers—not like it helps, but at least now he has an excuse as to why his face is wet.

Loki's done showering and has curled up in his bed in sweatpants and nothing else when Tony comes in, smelling of whiskey and cheap perfume. He opens his mouth—presumably to make some snide comment regarding Thanos—looks at Loki, and shuts it fast. Dropping his key, he walks over and presses his palm to his ex's forehead, and pretends he doesn't see the way Loki flinches.

"Jesus, Shakespeare," he starts.

"Stark... don't," Loki mutters, looking at the wall.

He feels Tony's hand ghosting his shoulder for a second, then the warmth of his body leaves, and Tony switches off the overhead light before going into the bathroom and shutting the door quietly behind him.


	16. What a Tangled Web we Weave

In the morning, Tony wakes up before Loki, which is strange, but he doesn't question it. He slips on jeans, his AC/DC shirt, and a sweatshirt with the Fibonacci sequence written across the front, then combs out his hair with his fingers and scrawls a quick note to Loki, asking if he's all right, before heading out. On his way down to the quad, he considers calling Pepper and asking her to join him in a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, but ultimately decides against it. Probably all she's going to want to talk about is Howard, sex, and her nails, and he needs silence if he's going to really figure out what was going on with that _look_ in Loki's eyes last night.

It's a gorgeous October day, and autumn swirls its leaves around Tony's ankles as he exits the dorm and heads out. Equations from his physics class bounce around his head, mingling with half-understood lines from _Macbeth_ and measurements from the building he's modeling in engineering with Rhodey. Recently he got an email from his father, asking only two things: if he's knocked Pepper up yet, and if he's making those straight A's. Howard would fucking keel over, Tony thinks with a smirk, if he know his son is going to be in a Shakespeare play.

When he reaches the coffee shop, he is surprised to find Steve there—because usually Steve spends his mornings with Phil. Tony orders a white chocolate macchiato and some banana bread, then walks over and sits opposite his friend.

"Hiya, Rogers," he says conversationally. "How's it going?"

Steve's eyes flick up briefly from behind the history textbook he has open. "Hey, Tony. I'm okay. How are you?"

"Can't complain," Tony mumbles around a bite of bread. "A month of sharing a dorm room with your ex sorta puts life back into perspective for you."

Steve smiles a little. "Speaking of Loki, I heard you two are in a Shakespeare play together?"

Tony nods. " _Macbeth._ It's a real bitch to understand—quantum theory is easier. But uh… it's good. We're getting along." He hesitates, then decides not to bring up last night's incident—it feels too personal, even for him.

"By 'getting along' I'm assuming you mean 'having sex'?"

A wide grin splits Tony's face, because hearing Steve talk about sex is like finding a very rare, very precious gem. "Oh yes. Definitely fucking. And speaking of that particular department… how're things with you and Coulson?"

Steve's cheeks flame up and he speaks into his cup of coffee. "Phil and I are, as you say, 'taking it slow'. But yes, we're still together, if that's what you're asking."

"God, Steve, you're like the pinnacle of chastity." Tony slaps him good-naturedly on the arm, and Steve rolls his eyes. "Still, congratulations. Send a wedding invite my way. Name the baby after me. I think Anthony Phillip Coulson-Rogers has a nice ring to it, don't you?"

The history major laughs and mutters, "Tony, you are a genius," and Tony takes a swig of coffee and replies:

"Put it on my business card, right after 'Greatest Physicist Ever'."

"You mean 'Egoist'."

"That, too."

A while later, Steve and Tony are still talking when the café door opens again and Loki comes in, hollow cheeks flushed with the cold, wearing one of Tony's sweatshirts. He glances around for a second before going up to the counter and ordering coffee and carrot cake, and Tony can't keep his eyes off him. He's moving strangely stiffly and keeps playing with the edges of the jacket sleeves, tugging them down.

"What's up with Loki?" Steve asks, after a few seconds.

"I don't know… he was with Thanos last night; maybe they had a fight or something. He wouldn't talk to me when I came in."

Loki spots Tony then, and his whole body visibly relaxes. He gets his coffee and his cake and walks over to where Tony and Steve are sitting.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"Hey, Loki," Tony replies, pushing his chair slightly over to the right. "You wanna sit?" It's an uncharacteristically chivalrous move on his part, but Loki doesn't question it, just sits, pale fingers wrapped loosely around his cup, eyes fixated on the polished surface of the table.

"Loki, hello," Steve says conversationally, and Tony wonders how the hell he's always so _cheerful._ "Haven't seen you in a while; how've you been?"

"Ah, Rogers." Loki, who had been looking sideways at Tony with a strange expression, almost of longing, on his face, now turns to face Steve, and his tone is even and steady and only Tony, who knows him better than anyone, is able to discern the faint tremble in the back of his throat. "I'm living, if that's what you mean. Stark may have mentioned he and I are in _Macbeth_ together?"

"We were just talking about that, actually." Steve grins. "I heard your boyfriend's in it as well?"

Loki winces and a shadow momentarily crosses his face. "Thanos has the part of Banquo, yes." His hand goes to Tony's jacket sleeve, tugs, and an idea formulates in Tony's mind—abuse? No. No fucking way; not gentle, quiet, suck-up Thanos. He clears his throat because he hates awkward silences; and then, more to ease up the tension building, he says:

"Careful, Laufeyson; that jacket's new, y'know."

It's not his best line, but it earns him an eye roll, and that's better than nothing. Warming up as he always does to any kind of reaction, Tony continues:

"Why are you wearing my jacket, anyway? You have no idea where it's been."

Loki makes a face. "If you say 'Pepper's dorm room', I'm going to deliberately spill my coffee on the front."

"Yet another stain I'd have to wash out from the fabric," Tony mutters, wiggling his eyebrows in mock seduction, and it's completely worth it to watch the flush creeping up Steve's collar, to see Loki shoot an eyebrow up and force back a small smile.

"You're disgusting, Stark."

"Yeah, but you love it." Tony reaches out to touch Loki's cheek, and the younger man flinches back. It's subtle, but it's noticeable, and it sort of kills the semi-playful mood that was coming on. This is the second time in under twenty-four hours that he's jerked back like that, and for Tony, it's both strange and unnerving. Steve's watching them silently, looking concerned, and again Tony thinks, abuse?

Loki's biting his lower lip. "How could I not?" he says, clearly trying to continue the light flirtation that had been building up, trying to pretend the incident didn't happen. Instead of rising to the bait, however, Tony locks his eyes onto Loki's, then reaches down and takes his wrist. Loki winces as Tony's thumb grazes his skin, and the older man thinks of the cigarette burn administered by Odin, and how utterly similar Loki's expression was then in comparison to now. He drops his eyes, pushes up the jacket sleeve. There are finger-shaped bruises, ugly and purple, marring the pale skin, and Tony doesn't need a DNA analysis to know they belong to Thanos.

"Whoa," breathes out Steve, from the other side of the table.

"Holy shit, Loki," says Tony, "is this what—"

Loki jerks his arm back and pulls the sleeve down. "Leave it, Tony," he says, standing. "Do not try to meddle in affairs which are not your own." He's shaking again, staring at the ground. "Excuse me," he mumbles, and nearly runs out of the café.

Steve and Tony look at each other, then at the still swinging door.

"Maybe some other time," says Tony, indicating the coffee, before getting up and following his ex.

It's not until he's nearly at the dorm entrance that he realizes Loki called him by his first name.

/

Tony goes up to their room cautiously, half-afraid of what he might find out if Loki decides to pen up to him. His phone buzzes as he's getting off the elevator—it's Pepper, wanting to know if he's up for an afternoon of cigarettes and whiskey because her roommate's gone and she could really use the company. He texts back a quick negative and slides his room key in the lock of the door, feeling only partially guilty that he's avoiding his girlfriend.

Loki's sitting on his bed, staring at his now bare wrists, a blank expression on his face. He barely glances up as Tony walks over and sits next to him.

"Loki…" says Tony, after a long silence. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Loki mumbles. "I apologize for creating such a scene in the café."

Tony frowns, reaches over, and touches Loki's knee, and he tenses but does not move away. "Hey, listen, it's cool," he says. "I didn't really wanna be in there anyway. You know how boring Steve can get if he gets started on history, and I think that's where the conversation we were having was headed."

This earns him a faint twitch of the lips and a soft sound at the back of his throat which could be a laugh, and Tony takes this as a good sign. He waits until Loki looks over at him before asking:

"So look, I know you said it's none of my business, but I have to ask again—"

"Stark…" Loki says, warningly, his hand instinctively moving over his injuries.

"—No, no, just hear me out," says Tony quickly, because he hates not being able to finish his sentences. "This… doesn't have anything to do with how weird you were acting last night, does it?"

Loki hesitates, a faint flush rising up on his high cheekbones, then shakes his head a little too quickly and, getting up, walks to the window. "I might have… banged my wrist on the showerhead earlier," he says to his feet, and it's on the tip of Tony's tongue to ask how a showerhead could leave fingermarks, but then Loki looks at him, and there's a sort of raw desperation in his eyes, a pleading for him to just leave it be, and Tony knows how that feels, to not want to be pressed for details, so he keeps his mouth shut.

After a little while, he says:

"We should run some lines, Laufeyson. You know they want us to start going without our scripts soon."

"Perhaps if you practiced more, you would feel less unsure about your part." The words are cutting, but the tone is not, and Tony just rolls his eyes and grabs his copy of _Macbeth,_ all worn and written on after nearly a month and a half of use. Loki takes his as well, but he knows as well as Tony that he won't need it.

Tony flips to the end. "Let's do the scene where you kill me." He grins. "It's symbolic of our real-life relationship, see."

"Yeah, except you've never cut my head off." Loki raises an eyebrow.

"Indulge me." Tony clears his throat, and Loki laughs again, a lovely, low, musical sound. He turns to the end of his copy, runs a long finger down the page, finds his opening line, and shuts the book again before starting:

_"Why should I play the Roman fool, and die on mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes do better upon them."_

Tony breathes in, getting into character, and walks towards Loki, one arm outstretched. _"Turn, hell-hound, turn!"_

_"Of all men else I have avoided thee,"_ says Loki, cutting his eyes up and down Tony's body and giving the line a slightly different edge than was originally intended. _"But get thee back; my soul is too much changed with blood of thine already."_

_"I have no words: my voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain than terms can give thee out!"_ They slice at the air with invisible swords, dancing, the pages of Tony's script rustling softly as he moves. When they have stopped, they are close, breathing quickly. The smell of crisp autumn air still lingers in Loki's hair, and Tony aches to run his fingers through it.

_"Thou losest labor,"_ Loki murmurs, his voice lower than usual, and thick with the proximity of their bodies, _"as easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed: let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life—"_

Tony cuts him off then, kissing him, a bit clumsily because he's trying not to touch his wrists but he wants to hold his arms and it's awkward, but Loki does not move away, though he does go tense for a moment before relaxing. The script falls, unnoticed, from Tony's hand, and when he slides his arms around Loki's waist, the younger man does not protest. They move to the bed, Tony scraping his teeth lightly against Loki's lower lip and Loki teasing his fingers against the nape of Tony's neck, where his skin is sensitive as fuck, but when Tony starts pushing Loki—gently, because he has control even when he's turned on—against the mattress, Loki turns away, panic flashing across his face.

"Loki…" says Tony, uncertainly. "I'm sorry. I'll stop."

He looks up at him, all raw emotion and vulnerability, and it's then, for the first time since they were in high school, that Tony feels something inside of him fall into place, something ragged and torn that he had long forgotten existed. He leans down and kisses Loki, slower, more tenderly, lips swollen against the pale skin of his companion, and Loki responds with equal languidness, a smile pulling at his mouth. He sits up again, his hand coming out to cup Tony's jaw, stroking it with his thumb. He's trembling, but neither of them acknowledge it.

There is safety, here, with Stark. And suddenly, Loki does not want to let him go.


	17. Lies

Occasionally, Loki still finds himself thinking about _that night._ He doesn't remember much from it, because he was pretty drunk—though not nearly as drunk as Tony, because who can even put that much alcohol in their body without killing themself—but he does remember the girl, and the bleachers, and seeing Tony standing there, unashamed, his hand shoved up her skirt, the wine spilling inelegantly from the glass she held as she tossed her head back and moaned his name over and over. He remembers grabbing Tony's arm and hissing, "What in the hell are you fucking _doing?"_ and hearing Stark's response, so cold and unfeeling, slurred from the whiskey:

"Getting more than you've offered in six months."

He'd been so _angry,_ then; how _dare_ Tony have accused him of not giving him what he wanted, what they both wanted. He tightened his grip on Tony's arm; shoved him out in front of everyone, screaming at him, using the few Norse curses he remembered from the mythology class he'd taken last summer, more furious than he'd ever been in his life. He remembers Tony's face, red from embarrassment and liquor, remembers how he tried to placate him, put an arm on his shoulder, told him, _calm down, Shakespeare; everyone's watching._

Loki remembers fighting with Tony; remembers asking, voice dripping with venom, "Why the fuck should I calm down when that slut obviously couldn't?" before slamming his fist, hard, directly underneath his left eye. They'd hit each other several times, ended up on the floor, Loki gripping Tony's shirt collar, Tony struggling to get his hands around Loki's throat, intoxication making both of them unsteady. He remembers getting thrown out by the principal; remembers walking to the edge of the parking lot with Tony, anger dissipating in the cold night air, replaced with the beginnings of resignation. He looked at Tony when they were far from the gym, and he said:

"Is she going to be your little trophy from now on?"

"Her? No," Tony shook his head and gave Loki a lopsided grin. "Her friend wants me but she doesn't go to this school; I'm supposed to feel her up and then she'll go report how good I am."

Something that had been teetering on the edge in Loki's chest fell, and smashed into a million pieces when it reached bottom. His breath caught at the back of his throat, and he remembers taking a few steps back from Tony, betrayal slicing through his heart.

"So… you don't want me, Stark? Is that it? I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Tony got a look in his eyes that meant he was trying to focus around the alcohol. "I just… think we should take a break for a while. I was going to have told you before it happened."

"Fuck you," said Loki, all quiet, and he turned away. He remembers feeling Tony's hand on his shoulder again, remembers shrugging it off, folding his arms. "You asshole. You want to end things with me? Do it now, then. Just end us." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "No one's stopping you."

He isn't sure, looking back, what he expected Tony to do; if he expected him to apologize or say it was all a joke—which Loki could have eventually forgiven because he enjoys pranks too, even though that would've been bordering on inappropriate—but all Tony did was set his jaw, look away, and ask:

"No hard feelings then, Laufeyson?"

It was not quite as painful as learning that Odin had adopted him; that Laufey had cast him away to live with a man who treated him worse than he would've been treated by his biological parents. But it fucking hurt. Loki set his jaw too, started for his car.

"Fine," he said. "I suppose I'm to wish you the best of luck with your new girlfriend?" The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, but all Tony said, with that self-deprecating grin on his face, was:

"How exactly am I supposed to get home if you're taking your car?"

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Find a way. You're smart enough for that. Merry fucking Christmas, Stark." And only after he was safely in his car, the ignition on, the heater warming up his leather seats, classical music streaming from his CD player, did he allow himself to let go, lean forward, and cry.

He thinks about it, now, as he looks at Tony, watching him breathe slowly, lips moving in a dream. It's been almost five days since the _incident_ with Thanos, and since then he hasn't touched him, hasn't talked to him, not even at rehearsals. There is a tension growing between them, and Loki knows he will have to pay for it in some way, but he's not sure how, and right now it's the last thing on his mind. Since the incident, he and Tony have been having sex nearly every night—with Loki topping, because he's still sore as fuck, but even so, it's been a better psychological healing for him than he'd expected. The bruises are starting to fade, and though they don't mention them, sometimes Loki catches Tony looking, just looking, at his arm, a question in his eyes which Loki does not want to answer.

The biggest change is that they're sleeping all night together, sometimes in Loki's bed, sometimes in Tony's. Often they wake up wrapped around each other, Loki's head buried against Tony's shoulder, Tony's arms wrapped around Loki's waist, their legs twined beneath the tangled sheets. It's the way it was in high school, but there's a different feeling to it—something deeper has fused its way into their relationship. They aren't going out, of course, because there's still Pepper and Thanos to contend with, but the intimacy is changing things. (It's changing the way Loki looks at Tony for sure, and he's starting to think that maybe one day soon he will be ready to talk about _that night_ with his ex.)

Loki reaches out and lightly strokes Tony's hair, and the physics major shifts and stirs and opens his eyes slowly. In the moments before he's fully awake, he looks up at Loki, and a smile crosses his face that is so uninhibited, so completely genuine, it startles Loki, who has to look away.

"Good morning, Laufeyson," says Tony, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. "You haven't been watching me, have you? That's kind of creepy."

"We aren't in _Twilight,_ after all," Loki mutters, feeling his cheeks flush, and Tony laughs a little, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. He halfway wishes that Tony would stay in bed with him in the mornings, even for a little while, but he supposes that's too much to ask and besides, they've both got classes at roughly the same time today. He watches Tony walk to the bathroom; almost as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Loki's phone buzzes. He checks it and is not surprised to see Thanos' name on the screen. The text he sends him is brief: _we need to talk; meet me behind the astronomy building in twenty minutes,_ but for some reason it sends an arc of fear racing up Loki's spine. He looks at his bruises, then at the mussed sheets from the night before, and wonders what would happen if he texted back that it's over, it's done with.

And then he considers it, and decides to just go ahead and meet Thanos. He hasn't spoken to him in five days; he figures he owes him this. He texts back an affirmative and gets dressed, in jeans and a green shirt that smells like Tony—cigarettes and whiskey and that cologne he wears. He grabs his laptop case and the textbook he'll need for his class and knocks on the bathroom door before leaving, as a sort of 'good-bye' for Tony.

Loki's gotten downstairs and has just gone out of the doors when he bumps into the person he likes seeing the least: his brother. Thor is alone for once, thumbs moving rapidly over the screen of his iPhone 4, but he looks up when he hears Loki coming, and a broad smile stretches his face.

"Brother!" he cries, and Loki rolls his eyes but refrains from muttering his customary response.

"Hello, Thor. Where's Jane?"

Thor's delight that Loki remembered his girlfriend's name is evident. "She's in class. I am waiting for her to get out; then she and I will depart for the Greek restaurant down the street." His smile widens. "And you, Loki? Where are you headed?"

"Going to see Thanos," says Loki, shifting his textbook to hide the fading bruises. If Thor saw that, Loki knows, he would _murder_ Thanos.

Thor's smile dims, but only slightly, and Loki is too pressed for time to wonder if there's a possibility that he already knows, or suspects, because of something Tony told him. "I'm glad to see you finally have moved on, brother," he says. "I am happy for you. Have a good time." He hesitates for a second, biting his lip, then adds, "Father wrote an email to me, but it was addressed to both of us."

"What's Odin want?" Loki asks, feeling irritated at the mention of the man they're both expected to call 'dad'.

"He would like me to tell you… not to waste your time on the play," Thor mutters, looking like he regrets bringing it up at all, and Loki rolls his eyes.

"If you write him back, let him know I do what I want. Say it like that… _brother._ " He spits out the term, putting as much venom as he can into it, and relishes the way Thor winces before he walks off in the direction of the astronomy building.

Thanos is waiting for him, leaned against the worn bricks at the back of the building, his hair slightly messed up from the wind. He smiles when he sees Loki, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Hey, Lo'," he says, stepping forward. "I haven't seen you around lately. Every time I try to talk to you after rehearsals you kind of rush out. I've missed you. You aren't avoiding me, are you?" It all comes out fast, and Loki blinks, startled. He sets his textbook on a table littered with cigarette butts and stained with bird shit and steps forward also. Their laptop cases hit, making Loki smile hesitantly. Thanos does not, however, and Loki sighs.

"I'm not avoiding you, Thanos, honestly," he lies—he's always been good at lying. "I've been busy, though—truly busy with schoolwork, and with memorizing the play." The last one is a hell of a lie, and they both know it—Loki's had _Macbeth_ essentially memorized since his sophomore year of high school. But Thanos lets it slide; runs his fingers slowly up Loki's arm.

"Well, we're both here now," he says, "and I've missed you, Lo'. I've missed you a lot."

"Yeah, you too," replies Loki, watching Thanos' fingers.

And then suddenly Thanos is dropping his laptop case to the ground, and making a gesture for Loki to do the same. Confusion flashes across Loki's face until he sees Thanos move his hand to his crotch, and then he wants to run.

 _Maybe it won't be like last time,_ is what he thinks while Thanos unsnaps his belt, unzips his jeans. _Maybe he'll be gentler. Maybe last time was a mistake. Alcohol can fuck with a person's brain, after all._

"I'm sorry," Thanos apologizes, while Loki takes off his jeans and leans against the wall, waiting, watching, to see what he'll do. "I just can't wait, you know? You understand."

"I understand." Another lie, but it's okay. It'll be okay.

Loki's heart races, and he wishes he'd told Tony where he was going so maybe someone would know where he is right now, but the astronomy building is out of the way of everything else and if you're behind it, you're pretty invisible to the rest of the campus. He watches Thanos grease up his cock with lube and, a moment later, is being turned and pressed, chest first, to the wall. He feels Thanos enter him and winces, gritting his teeth, against the pain. Thanos pushes in, and Loki gasps, the raw cold air of morning hitting his bare legs, shooting down his throat.

"I've missed this," Thanos whispers hoarsely into his ear.

Loki wills himself not to cry out. Half of him wants to turn and claw Thanos' eyes out, and the other half of him wonders why he's not enjoying this. Thanos is Loki's boyfriend, after all, and shouldn't he be getting something out of this other than the sensation that it's wrong and it should be stopped before he gets more hurt than he already is?

By the time Thanos pulls out, Loki is shaking so badly he can't really stand up straight. He half collapses to the ground, feeling pain and humiliation seeping across his face, staining it crimson. He is a fucking Shakespeare scholar, for god's sake; he's learning three languages and has two papers due next week, one on Chaucer, the other on Walt Whitman's earlier, lesser known works.

He doesn't deserve this.

"Thanos—" he starts, but perhaps Thanos can see some of his thoughts on his face, because suddenly he's grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to his feet, and his fingers are digging into the old bruises, and Loki hisses through clenched teeth.

"Do not test me," snarls Thanos. "I love you, Loki Laufeyson, but I will not be shot down for Tony Stark. Or anyone else. You got that?" He lets Loki's arm go and finishes zipping his jeans back up, then grabs his laptop case and slings it over his shoulder. "C'mon, I'll walk you to class."

Feeling sick, with the soft autumn sun hitting his shoulders, Loki pulls up his pants, grabs his stuff, forces a smile, and walks—well, limps, but no one noticed before and they sure as hell aren't going to notice now—behind Thanos, and wants to punch the part of himself that aches to grab his boyfriend's hand and hold it like he would have two weeks ago.


	18. When Most I Play the Devil

When they arrive at the entrance to the classroom, Loki immediately starts to go in but is stopped by the feel of Thanos' long fingers wrapping around his wrist. He pulls him aside, out of vision range of the other students, and Loki wonders for a minute if he's going to try and fuck him here, in the hall; if that would be possible, even for Thanos. Instead, he leans in and kisses Loki, and it's surprisingly gentle—just another instance of his personality switching like that. When he pulls away, he's smiling, and he looks so _normal_ that it makes Loki wonder if perhaps he imagined the whole incident behind the astronomy building.

"My class ends about ten minutes earlier than yours," Thanos says, "so if it's all right with you, I'll just wait for you and we can go grab a bite to eat for lunch, maybe?"

It's a question, but Loki has a feeling that there's only one right answer. He takes in a deep breath, forces a smile, and replies:

"That would be delightful," and Thanos' smile grows, and he releases Loki's wrist and turns and walks off without saying anything else.

_'And thus I clothe my naked villainy with old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ; and seem a saint, when most I play the devil,'_ Loki thinks, quoting _Richard III,_ and he isn't sure if he's referring to himself, because he's a liar, or to Thanos, because he's deceptive.

After class—it's his linguistics class and he can't even enjoy it because he's thinking too much about Thanos—Loki heads out and there's Thanos, leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for him with his hands in his pockets and his head slightly tilted. He straightens up and holds out his hand, and Loki reluctantly takes it, feeling a little angry at himself; a little relieved that nothing more has happened between them. They walk out together, and the sun crawls higher and casts shadows on the sidewalk.

"Where should we have lunch?" Thanos asks. "I know about this really great Greek restaurant not too far from here—"

Loki winces, because that's where Thor and Jane went earlier, and even though he knows it's unlikely that they're still there, there's a possibility, and he doesn't want to chance running into his brother, not like this. "I developed an aversion to Greek food when I ate some bad _apáki_ a few years ago. Let's go get some Scandinavian instead."

To his surprise, Thanos agrees—although he does look a little put-out, most likely from being interrupted. He checks on his phone and finds a Scandinavian restaurant close to them, and they go get in his car and drive to it. Once there, they are seated almost immediately by a bellhop who recognizes Thanos from his t-shirt selling website—Thanos grins and loops his arm through Loki's and mutters, "Aren't you glad to be seen with someone as famous as I am?" and even though Loki knows he's joking it still irritates him that Thanos is acting like his shirts are such a big deal—who then gives them menus and takes their drink orders.

"Nice place," Thanos comments after a few seconds, glancing around. "I've never eaten Scandinavian before."

"My biological father was Norwegian," Loki mutters, staring at the tablecloth, and Thanos looks at him, confused.

"You're adopted?" he starts, and Loki's just dragged his eyes up and is about to force himself to start on _that_ particular gem of a story when an all-too-familiar voice booms from behind them:

"Loki? What are you doing here?"

It's Odin, alone, wearing his business suit and one of his fancier eye patches. He strides over to Loki and Thanos' table, and Loki can see the gears in his mind turning as he works it out: _gay adopted son sitting in a fancy restaurant with an attractive young man across from him; must be a new love interest I'll have to deal with._

"Hello, Father," Loki says, a bit uncertainly, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over his wrist. Odin barely glances at him before positively glaring at Thanos, and he says:

"Who's this?"

"This is Thanos," introduces Loki. And then, just to test Odin's patience, he adds, "He's in _Macbeth_ with me."

He's expecting some sarcastic comment about 'wasting time on plays instead of getting an education' or 'are you a fag like my son?' or something along those lines, something which will give Loki an excuse to leave the restaurant and get away from Thanos for a little while. Instead, Odin holds out his hand, and Thanos actually stands up and shakes it, a smile spreading across his face that only Loki can tell is fake.

"Very nice to meet you, sir," says Thanos.

"Likewise," replies Odin. "Is Loki pestering you often with the play?"

Thanos grins. "He's the fastest Shakespeare scholar I've ever seen, and occasionally I have no idea what he's talking about, but it's okay. It's what's endearing about him."

"So you two are…?" Odin makes a back-and-forth gesture with his finger, and Thanos nods, and grabs Loki's hand.

"And I plan to be with him for a long time," he says. There is that usual flatness in his eyes, but simmering underneath is a current of something almost threatening, and perhaps Odin senses it because he says nothing more than:

"Good, then," before crooking his finger at Loki. "I would have words with you, son."

They walk out to the entrance of the restaurant, and there Odin drops all pretext of being a good father and grabs Loki by the arm, again over the bruises left by Thanos.

"What are you doing, Loki?" he hisses. "Are you trying to disgrace the name of my family by dating only other men?"

Loki wrenches his arm away. "I'm not doing anything wrong," he snarls. "I'd think you'd be ashamed of yourself, writing Thor that email about my being in _Macbeth,_ then turning around and talking to Thanos about it like it's okay with you."

He can see the veins pulsating in Odin's forehead and knows it's taking a considerable amount of restraint for him not to strike his son. "How _dare_ you talk back to me like that? I am your father!"

"That's a statement that could be brought in for questioning," Loki says, sneering, and Odin does hit him then, sharp and fast across the mouth, and somehow no one notices—a fact that Loki is getting more and more used to lately.

"I will expect you to focus more on your studying from now on," Odin snaps. "Less on this play, and… that man." He shudders before turning and walking out of the restaurant, and Loki curls his fists and resists the urge to run after him and beat him to death in the parking lot with his own walking stick.

The rest of the meal is tense and goes by fairly quickly, with Thanos scarfing down his food and Loki barely touching any. The adoption issue comes up again, briefly, at the beginning, but Loki won't talk about it and Thanos doesn't press for details. (And that's another thing Loki hates about Thanos—how he acts like he used to so often that one almost forgets he's really as fucked-up as the content of his shirts.) By the time they've left and gone back to Berkeley, Loki's exhausted, and it takes surprisingly little persuasion to get Thanos off his back.

"Are you sure I can't come up with you?" Thanos asks, when they're standing at the entrance to the dorm. "I could make you feel better, Lo'. I _want_ to."

"I just would prefer to be alone for a while," Loki says. "I'll text you if I feel like going out again later."

Thanos sighs, and for a second, as Loki looks into his eyes, he sees a flash of that same threatening he saw in the restaurant. But then it's gone, and he's saying 'okay, goodbye' and walking back across the quad, and Loki thinks he imagined the whole thing. He goes up to he and Tony's room and stretches out over his mattress, and there's an infinitesimal pause before he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. He thumbs down through his contacts list until he comes to the one name he wants to see right now, and he taps in a quick text: _I'm in the room; can you come?_

The reply is almost instantaneous: _For you, always,_ and Loki laughs a little when he realizes the sexual implications of the exchange. He does not have to wait long before the lock clicks and Tony Stark comes in the room, dark hair disheveled, smelling of chemicals, a wild glint in his eyes that says he was working on science experiments just moments ago.

"Hey, Laufeyson, what's up?" Tony asks, then sees the look in his ex's eyes and realizes he's probably not going to get an answer. He walks over to Loki's bed, pausing only to toss his laptop case on his own mattress, and then he's sinking down beside Loki and stroking his hair, his face. Loki shuts his eyes and swallows, and _god_ he wants to tell Tony what's going on, wants someone else to know, but when he opens his mouth what comes out is:

"That night we broke up, Stark… you mentioned a woman, someone to whom you were going to be referred as pertained to your sexual skills. It wasn't the girl under the bleachers, was it?"

If Tony's surprised that this is coming up now, he doesn't show it. "No."

"Who was it?" and suddenly Loki _has_ to know, even though he has a feeling he already does, even though technically once Thor told him, ages ago, and he shut out what he was saying because he didn't want to hear. "Who did you leave me for, Tony?" His voice hitches on the use of his ex's first name, and he has to fight not to fall into the older man's arms, into that safe haven.

Tony takes in a deep breath. "Pepper," he says, finally, after a long silence, drawing himself up and away from Loki because he knows he'll probably get pushed back anyway and this is easier. "It was Pepper. She went to a high school across town; her friend, the girl under the bleachers, had told her about me and she got curious, wanted to know what I was like." He locks his eyes onto Loki's and wants to erase all the pain he sees there—but he can't, and it's his fault, and that's the whole problem, isn't it, with being Anthony Edward Stark, perpetual fuckup of everything.

"…Why did you want to go looking for someone else?" Loki asks quietly, sliding back against the headboard.

Tony knits his eyebrows together; opens his mouth to reply. Before he can, however, there's a loud knock at the door, and when he goes to answer it it's Pepper herself, hair flowing around her shoulders and wearing a semi-formal dress and looking gorgeous, just gorgeous.

"Let's go, Tony," she says. "The party won't start itself, you know."

Tony looks over his shoulder at Loki, who just makes a gesture with his hand like, go. "Most interesting conversation, Shakespeare," says Tony, sliding back into the role he's so used to, the sarcastic asshole, and Loki hates him for it almost as much as he hates himself for it. "We'll have to continue this later." He and Pepper walk out and shut the door behind him, and the last thing Loki hears before they disappear into an elevator is Pepper asking, "Why do you call him _Shakespeare?"_

And then he's alone again, and he curls up on the edge of the mattress, his head in his hands, trying desperately not to cry. _Not good enough for Laufey, not good enough for Odin, not good enough for Tony,_ is all he can think.

Maybe he should just stay with Thanos. He's the first person Loki's ever dated that Odin's approved of, even a little, and maybe, just maybe, if he keeps on dating him, he can prove that he's as worthy and as good a son as Thor.


	19. Killer in the Crowd

Weeks pass by quickly, like the colors of the leaves changing on the trees surrounding the college, carrying them into November. Although Loki does not want to admit it to himself, he has, in a way, resigned himself to being with Thanos—and all that entails. There are mornings—less and less often, now—when he wakes up wrapped in Tony's arms, or vice versa, and thinks, for a few seconds, that this is how it is, and it's okay again; but then he remembers bruises, and pain, and blood, and he has to force himself to lie through yet another day.

It isn't like anyone notices Loki's descent into emotional torture anyway—he's been withdrawn and quiet for long enough now to where everyone thinks it's normal when he only goes out with Thanos, when all he ever does at rehearsals is sit by Thanos, when he declines rare offers during class made by fellow students to have a cup of coffee afterwards because he has to get back to Thanos. The only person who might notice _anything_ is Tony, and as far as Loki can see Tony's too busy with Pepper and Rhodey and keeping Howard off his back to bring it up.

Besides, Loki and Tony haven't talked, not really, since their last discussion back in October. Tony's avoiding the whole break-up issue—of course he is, Loki expected nothing else—and Loki's too wrapped up with Thanos to try and bring it out again. Their relationship has reverted back to mostly sex—although occasionally Loki catches Tony looking at him during rehearsals with that same expression of longing in his eyes he's had for the whole semester now and it confuses him and hurts him for reasons he's not really ready to delve into just yet. He still wonders why _that night_ happened, but with everything else going on, he's put it on a back burner and is struggling to forget about it all together.

One afternoon, Loki is sitting alone on a bench in the quad—Thanos is in class and Loki is _oh so grateful,_ not like he's admitting that to himself or anything—staring off into the distance as the November wind threads itself through his hair, raising chills on his arms and the back of his neck, when a familiar voice behind him calls:

"Brother!" and he turns and it's Thor, coming up to join him, _sans_ Jane for once, a huge smile on his face. "May I sit with you?"

Loki shrugs, which Thor interprets as the closest thing to a 'yes, of course' that he'll ever get, so he places his books to the side and sits down, clasping his hands in front of him. They are quiet for a bit, but silence has never been Thor's strong point, and after several sideways glances in Loki's direction, he says:

"How are you doing, brother? It seems we do not speak as often as I'd wish anymore."

Or ever, Loki thinks, a bit snarkily, but he keeps it to himself. "I'm okay, Thor," he says out loud, because it's easier than telling the truth. "How are you?"

"I fare well, Loki. Jane and I are making plans to possibly get an apartment together after this year ends."

Loki raises an eyebrow. "And you believe Odin will allow that?"

Thor hesitates. "Father… does not know yet. But I will tell him at Thanksgiving." It is the first time that Loki has ever heard Thor say he is going to do something without the express permission of Odin; a very tiny smile crosses his face and he lightly nudges his brother's shoulder with his own.

"Finally learning to rebel?" he asks, and Thor laughs good-naturedly.

"There is more mischief to me than you think, brother," he says, nudging him back. Loki tries not to wince, but Thor is a big guy, and there are still bruises littering his arm from an episode last week when Thanos hit him because he said he felt too tired to fuck. Thor notices—of course Thor notices, and Loki can tell from the expression in his eyes that he's been noticing for longer than just today—and suddenly he's shifting, turning to face Loki, his face deadly serious.

"What's going on?" he asks, and the panic that's building up in Loki's chest downshifts to that same simmering resignation he feels around Thanos, and for the first time since all this started, he finds himself opening his mouth and spilling the whole story, from that first night in Thanos' dorm room until the last time they were together, just this morning.

When he's done, it's quiet. Loki doesn't look at Thor, but he can feel him stewing beside him, rage boiling just below the surface because how _dare_ someone hurt his little brother like that.

Abruptly Thor gets to his feet. "I will not stand for this any longer, brother," he says. "I do not understand how it could have gone on this long, but it will stop today. I am not going to allow Thanos to degrade you like that anymore."

And then panic washes over Loki again, because somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he shouldn't have told Thor anything, and it isn't like he can just escape from Thanos any time he wants to… and besides, Thanos is really all he has, now. Ever since he and Odin met in the restaurant, Loki's been free from insults from his adopted father—in fact, Odin seems almost ready to accept Loki's sexuality. (It isn't like Loki likes being in debt to Thanos for his so-called father's approval, but at this point, he'll take anything. Anything at all.)

"Thor," he says, "it's… not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Thor repeats, loudly. "He _raped_ you, Loki! He will pay for what he has done to our family!"

And just like that, Loki sees a way out of this whole mess, sees a light flashing at the end of his rapidly shrinking tunnel. He might hate Thanos, he might feel the need to shower for an hour and a half after being with him; he might even still slide into Tony's arms late at night for comfort, expecting no questions and getting nothing but soft kisses on his cheeks and the faint, welcoming smell of leather and cigarettes—but he will be damned if he's going to give up the only relationship he's ever had that got Odin's attention in a positive way.

He will be damned if he'll give up the only companion he's got left.

(And anyway, he tells himself, it'll be easier facing Thanos at _Macbeth_ rehearsals if they're still together, still pretending like everything's okay.)

Loki takes a step towards his brother, and allows a sneer to curl the left corner of his upper lip. _"Our family?"_ he repeats. "What has Thanos done to our _family?_ Why are you really angry about this, Thor? Is it truly some misplaced sense of overprotectiveness over me? Or is it because you cannot bear to see the name of 'Odinson' put to shame?"

Thor's mouth drops open. "Brother, why do you twist my words?" he asks. "You know it's for you! I hate to see you get hurt like this, by this man!"

"As I said before, it's not that bad," Loki says. "You don't know anything about us."

"I know enough. I shall end his life, brother, if he tries to touch you again."

"Stop trying to make things better for me, Thor," Loki snarls, and he's nearly yelling. "You have no right to meddle in my affairs. We aren't even blood." He knows that will get Thor, and it does; the hurt in his eyes, the heaviness, is more than enough to convince Loki that he's gotten his brother out of this whole mess. Still smirking, he turns and walks off, back in the direction of the college, ignoring one last call from Thor, broken and pleading:

"Brother, please…"

Loki's gotten what he wanted, once again. So why, as he stands in the hall waiting for Thanos' class to let out, does he feel so drained?

/

It is about three days later that Thanos gets sick, on the same morning that a Macbeth rehearsal is held. It's a critically important one, but Thanos is running a fever and keeps falling over every time he tries to stand, so he stays in his dorm room. Part of Loki feels obligated to stay with him, to hold his hand and rub a cool washcloth over his forehead.

The other part wants to smother him with a pillow while he tosses in a heat-filled, fever-induced nightmare.

Instead, Loki goes to rehearsal, because Thanos tells him to, and because he knows Tony will not be able to remember some of his lines if Loki isn't there. The theater is mostly empty that morning, except for the cast; Pepper, who is painting her nails a sickening shade of red in the back row; and Bruce, who is half asleep, stretched out on the seats in aisle seven.

Tony is backstage already when Loki gets there, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with the Black Sabbath logo on the front. He nods once at Loki, then does a double-take.

"Wait, where's your death-obsessed sidekick?" he asks. "I thought you two were joined at the hip."

"He's sick this morning," says Loki.

"Wow, he let you come alone?"

"It's not like that," and it takes Loki a minute to register the sarcastic tone in Tony's voice; to realize he was teasing, and that Loki has gone all tense and defensive for no reason.

"Chill, Shakespeare," says Tony, raising an eyebrow. "It was a joke." His eyes drop to Loki's arms, and although the markings are not visible both of them know they're there. "So he's not here this morning. Well, good; more time for us." He slings an arm casually around Loki's shoulders, and Loki, without thinking, puts his arm around Tony's waist. Tony raises another eyebrow but says nothing, and gradually Loki feels the tension easing out of his body.

Between scenes, they go backstage together and Tony cups Loki's jaw in his hands and kisses him, never moving his hands lower than Loki's waist. Several times Loki considers telling Tony, but each time he finds himself unable to do it—mostly because, if it failed so miserably with Thor, he does not want to know how badly it would go with someone like Tony.

When rehearsal is nearly over, Tony captures Loki before he can go on for a scene and presses their foreheads together. "It was good, hanging out with you, Laufeyson."

"Likewise, Stark." Loki shuts his eyes and breathes in Tony's scent by degrees, measuring his last bits of comfort before he has to return to anger and controlling.

"God," says Tony after a while, and Loki thinks he hears a catch in his voice but no, that can't be right, not with Stark. "And to think, we don't even get a bedroom to ourselves for another twelve hours."

Loki laughs shortly. "See you later, Tony," he says, and walks out onstage, trailing his fingers against Tony's palm for as long as possible before disappearing behind the heavy curtain.


	20. 'I Love You' Never Felt Like Any Blessing

Thanos texts Loki as he's leaving the theater, wanting to know how the rehearsal went and if he has a few minutes to stop by before he has to go to class. Automatically, Loki texts back an affirmative, though in fact he's not sure if he does have time—he'd wanted to go see the professor about an issue he was having with his paper before class started, and he knows if he goes to see Thanos there is no way he's going to be able to do that. Still, he supposes he could make a stop by his room to pick up _The Fellowship of the Ring_ —he's recently restarted that series in addition to the poetry and novels he has to read for his literature class and Tony's made a couple of remarks about 'how do you even have time to read all that _stuff'_ and Loki can always tell Stark is impressed—so he goes back to the dorm and punches the 'up' button on the elevator.

A few seconds later, he is joined by Natasha, who is wearing one of Clint's oversized black sweatshirts and holding a cup of steaming coffee, looking half-asleep. She glances over at Loki, takes a sip of coffee, and smiles briefly.

"Good morning," she says affably.

"Morning," Loki mutters, staring down at his feet. "Where's Clint?" and Natasha quirks an eyebrow, because why is Loki actually _initiating_ conversation between them, and she makes a mental note to let Thor know that yes, she _has_ noticed a slight change in his little brother's demeanor, in the way he's holding himself and how he looks thinner than usual—and he was always thin to begin with.

"Clint's in his dorm room; I'm bringing this up to him." Natasha inclines her head at the coffee, then takes another sip and grins. "Of course, that's assuming there's any left by the time I get up there."

Loki makes an effort to smile as the elevator arrives, but it falls flat. "Good luck with that," he says, stepping inside. Natasha follows him and they hit their respective floor buttons; the doors close again and the machine starts upward.

When Natasha reaches over and punches the 'stop' button, Loki feels his stomach wrench. Calculating the time it'll take to get from here to the linguistics department, plus the ten or fifteen minutes Thanos is sure to hold him for, _plus_ any time he might have to take off should he accidentally run into Thor, he's not entirely sure he'll make it within the first thirty minutes of class, if at all. Still, he stays quiet, drumming his fingers in agitation against his thigh, and asks:

"You wanted something, Romanoff?"

"Loki." Natasha's voice goes from borderline-friendly to businesslike in five seconds flat and it's impressive, and Loki hates to think of what arguments between her and Clint must be like. "I know it's actually none of my business, but your brother was expressing concern over your well-being the other day, and I can't help but notice—"

"Goddammit!" Loki shouts so suddenly that Natasha jumps, coffee splashing against her shoe and the chrome floor of the elevator. "He had no right to tell you what I told him."

She raises her eyebrows—both of them this time, because what is up with his reaction? "He didn't tell me anything, Loki, chill. He only said that you seemed upset the last time you two talked. And to me, now, you do; you're all tense and on edge. Is there anything going on?" She looks genuinely concerned, a side of Natasha that not a lot of people see, and Loki's tempted to tell her, but only for a second.

"Nothing," he says, and it's more like a snarl, hostile and completely unlike him. He reaches over and nearly slams his fist against the 'up' button, and the elevator jerks into motion once more. "Thanks for your feigned interest, but I'm fine."

Natasha regards him coolly. When the elevator dings and the doors open for the third floor, she leans against them, preventing him from leaving. "You listen to me, Laufeyson," she says. "You may not hang out with us like you used to, and you may never talk to any of us anymore, and I know there's some weird friction going on between you and Tony that I'm not going to ask about right now; but your brother is really worried about you. He wouldn't tell me anything, but he seemed to think you might need to talk to someone, and soon."

Loki feels his phone buzz in his pocket and knows without looking that it's Thanos. Discreetly, he checks the time on the wall clock and realizes that he'll be lucky to catch the last five minutes of his class. "I don't need to talk to anyone. Okay? I'm not having any problems. Thor is delusional. Now if you'll excuse me," and he shoves past her and down the hall to Thanos' dorm room.

Natasha narrows her eyes and steps back into the elevator. As the doors close and it continues its ascent, she whips out her phone and sends a quick text to Thor, still balancing the coffee mug carefully in her free hand:

 _Just going with my gut here, but I'd call abuse, Thor,_ and then another one, to Tony:

_Talk to Loki, Stark. I don't give a fuck how awkward it is between you two. Something's up with him and right now, I think you're the person he needs more than anyone else._

/

Thanos smiles at Loki when he answers his door, then coughs raggedly against the woolen blanket wrapped around his body. "Come on in, Lo'," he says, and Loki goes in, setting his laptop case carefully down on the floor. The room smells of incense, medicine, and sweat; it's cloying and makes him want to gag.

"You had a good rehearsal?" Thanos asks, sitting on his bed and flipping his hair out of his eyes. "I hope I didn't miss anything." He stretches out and coughs again, and Loki walks over and sets cool fingers on his forehead. Thanos' eyes slide shut and he lets out a soft sigh.

"Rehearsal went fine," Loki murmurs.

"And my understudy?"

"Couldn't hold a candle to you."

Thanos half smiles. "You're good, Lo'," he says quietly, and Loki finds himself wishing that Thanos would get sick more often, because damn, it's easier to be around him when he's too weak to move much. He sits down next to his boyfriend and runs his fingers over his chest slowly until his breathing evens out, but even then he doesn't dare move. (He knows Thanos isn't feeling well but he doesn't want to push his luck by trying to leave, and anyway, he's been attending class regularly all semester, he deserves a break.)

He ends up missing his linguistics class and half of his extra credit Latin course, and tells himself it's all going to work out in the end.

/

Tony's in his physics class with Bruce—Professor Maria Hill is lecturing on the Higgs-Boson particle and he's drifting in and out, because as interesting as all this is it doesn't matter nearly as much as how desperately Loki clung to him this morning when they were kissing behind the curtain—when he gets the text from Natasha, and it raises his eyebrows, because why the fuck were Loki and Natasha even talking to begin with? Bruce glances over, peering at the cell phone screen through his glasses, and makes an interested sound at the back of his throat.

"Something's up with Loki?" he asks.

Tony shrugs. "Maybe, I don't keep tabs on the guy," though of course this is a lie; and the text just makes him feel worse than he already has been feeling, because he's been basically ignoring Loki's issues for the past month, and how sick he's starting to look, how run-down he seems. He barely even has any energy at rehearsals anymore—that morning, during the 'is this a dagger I see before me' scene, which is easily Loki's _magnum opus_ as far as Shakespeare goes, he stumbled twice, forgot the lines once, and delivered in such a monotone that even the teacher couldn't bring herself to compliment him. Natasha's text just makes Tony's insides turn to solid lead and drop, and part of him wants to get up and leave class right now, because _dammit,_ he still cares about the guy, and just having sex with him, just holding him, just occasionally flirting with him when Pepper's not around; that's not going to be enough if something's seriously wrong.

"Nat seems to think so," Bruce murmurs, his voice mild as usual. He jots down an equation off the board and fixes Tony with a _look._ "You care, I know you do."

Tony sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Yes," he says finally, exhaling, "all right, I care. I care more than is probably healthy for me right now."

Bruce gestures. "So talk to him."

"If only it was that easy, Banner," says Tony, bitterly, but he can't stop staring at the text for the rest of class.

/

Instead of taking his dinner with Pepper, as he usually does, Tony goes straight to his dorm room after his engineering class and finds Loki curled up with _The Fellowship of the Ring,_ his Android by his head. He barely glances up when Tony enters, but the older man walks over and takes the book from his hand anyway.

"Stark, hey, what the fuck—"

Tony puts the book on the table between their beds. "All right, Laufeyson, no more bullshit. What the hell is going on with you?"

Loki raises an eyebrow. "Since when do you care?"

"That isn't an answer to my question." Tony's itching to grab Loki's shoulders and shake him until he says something, but he won't— _can't_ —because Loki's arms are still covered in bruises, and it's probably mostly Tony's fault for not paying attention, and he knows yelling at his ex isn't exactly the best approach but he's absolutely furious right now—at himself, at Thor, at everyone. "I don't know what's happening, but Nat texted me this morning, said you're acting weird, said something's going on with you—"

"Natasha should learn to mind her own affairs," Loki says angrily, looking away from Tony.

Tony sits next to Loki on the mattress. "Look, I get the whole 'lone wolf' act you're pulling because I do the same thing, trust me, I hate when people interfere with me—"

"Then stop doing the same thing to me," Loki snaps, rubbing at his arms. Abruptly he whirls on Tony and his eyes are blazing, wet, bright green. There is sadness lurking somewhere behind the anger, and Tony longs to take it away from Loki, but he can't; he's taken too long, he knows Loki will not tell him what's going on unless he wants to, and the odds of that happening… well. Tony's a physics major. He knows all about unlikely statistics.

"Just tell me where the bruises are from," he says, finally. "We can all be happy and get along like goddamn Boy Scouts around a campfire if you tell me that."

Loki narrows his eyes. "You tell me something first, Stark. You tell me why you felt the need to break it off with me two years ago."

It's such an abrupt change of subject that Tony is caught off guard. He swallows, studies Loki's face. He knows damn well why he did what he did in December. He is afraid of commitment and it had been two years by that point (or nearly, and that was good enough for Tony) and he needed to break it off before things got too serious (and by 'too serious' of course Tony meant 'falling in love' which he could tell Loki had already done by the look in his eyes, and he was on the edge of admitting that he'd done the same, which was why he found it harder than usual to tell himself that he didn't feel bad at all about breaking up with Loki). He'd been in love and it was too much, because love was a knife, serrated on the edges and searing hot, twisting into your heart, taking over everything you knew.

Love wasn't controllable, and Tony didn't like to associate himself with things he couldn't control.

"I was a coward," he says, finally, and it's enough; it's a summary, but it's enough, Loki can see the rest in Tony's eyes. He gets up, all lean muscle and elegance, despite having been nearly beaten down by Thanos, and he holds his chin up so Tony cannot see the tears slipping down his cheeks.

"You were," Loki murmurs, and then he walks to the door and opens it, slipping out.

"You can't just walk away! We've been fucking for the past two months!" Tony yells after him, angry for reasons he doesn't fully understand, but Loki's already gone.


	21. When God is Gone and the Devil Takes Hold

A few minutes after Loki leaves, Tony's slammed the door shut again and is laying on his bed, flipping through Lee Smolin's _Quantum Gravity_ and nearly crushing the cigarette he has clamped between his teeth, when there's a loud, almost angry-sounding knock at the door. _He better be coming to apologize,_ Tony thinks, irrationally, before remembering that Loki has nothing at all to apologize for. Sighing, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, and walks to the door, idly ruffling his hair. He's fully expecting to see Loki standing there—and is startled when it's really Pepper, who has a furious expression on her face. Her whole body is tense and when she pushes past him and into the room, her red ponytail swings from side to side.

"Pep, hey, what's up?" he asks. "Don't tell me you're upset because I skipped dinner with you—because it was just this one time and I can always make it up to you…" He wiggles his eyebrows in a mock-seductive way that usually makes her laugh, but the frown stays this time. She folds her arms across her chest.

"It's not _dinner,_ Tony," she snaps. "It's Loki."

He freezes. "What about Loki?" he asks, cautiously.

"I've thought for months now something weird was going on between the two of you," she says, and her voice starts rising in pitch, and Tony knows from experience that's never a good sign. "I ignored it because I knew you loved me—"

"—which I do, so let's just drop this whole issue," interrupts Tony hastily, because he can see where this is going and the last thing he wants right now is to have to handle a screaming girlfriend on top of everything else.

"Do you? Do you _really?_ Because just a little while ago, I was coming up to surprise you and I heard you screaming something out the door which made me think you're cheating on me."

Shit, shit, _shit._

"It's called acting, Pep," Tony says, trying to placate her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Just trying to stay in character. It happens."

She shrugs his hand off. "Shakespeare never wrote about two guys fucking behind one of their girlfriend's backs!"

"Hey, you never know, I heard the Bard was a letch—"

Pepper fixes him with a look. "Stop fucking around, Tony," she says. "Why are you doing this?"

He breathes out a sigh; runs his fingers through his hair. "I guess I forgot to tell you that Loki and I dated back in high school."

There is a long silence. Tony can hear Thor, Steve, and Phil playing Legend of Zelda two rooms over and is thankful that Thor didn't hear what he shouted.

"You _dated another guy?"_ Pepper screams, and this time Tony's pretty sure the entire dorm building can hear what she's saying.

"Well Jesus, Pepper," says Tony, a bit snarkily, feeling defensive, "I wasn't aware that I had to list my entire sexual history for your enjoyment."

"It's not that," she says, shuddering a little. "But… a _guy?"_

"This is the twenty-first century, hon; we aren't all stuck back in the nineteen hundreds."

She's breathing a little unevenly. In her mind, 'gay' and 'Tony Stark' do not go together, and she's torn between wanting to tear her hair out and wanting to throw him on the bed, show him exactly _why_ sleeping with her has always been, and will always be, the better option. "Does Howard know?" she asks, and something shifts in his eyes. He nods, and she takes a step back from him.

"Fucking Christ, Pepper," he says, beginning to feel a headache forming between his eyebrows. "You know Steve's with Phil, and you don't care about that—"

"Yes, but you're with _me,"_ she snaps. "Or you were. I'm not so sure I want to associate myself with someone who's fucking other guys all the time."

"Hey, I could get you good connections." Tony's trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work, and Pepper can't tell he's joking. She unfolds her arms, and he thinks, for a moment, that she's going to slap him.

"Just tell me this," she says. "Just tell me that you don't love him; that you'll never do it again."

He doesn't say anything. He'd be lying if he said he'd never do it again—the love part, he's not ready to think about, because even now Tony Stark doesn't do feelings, but he's not going to get himself caught up in another mess.

"Oh my _god,"_ says Pepper, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "I can't believe you want him more than me!"

"Hey." Suddenly Tony's irritation at this whole encounter flashes into anger. "Hey, so it was okay for you to invite Loki to have a ménage-a-trois with us back in September, but it's not okay for me to fuck him on the side sometimes?"

"It's _different_ when you're cheating, Tony! You fucking asshole!" She smacks his arm. "I was joking when I said that. I can't believe you!"

"Knowing you…" Tony mutters, and Pepper backs even further away from him.

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?! No, you know what, Tony? I'm done. We're done. We're over. I can't be with you if you're cheating on me with Loki Laufeyson, of all people."

"Of all people? So what, if I was cheating on you with, say, Nat, or with Steve, it would be okay, but since it's Loki—"

"You know what I mean. Look, Tony, we were bound to end up done anyway. I wasn't feeling that _spark_ anymore."

Tony raises an eyebrow, and Pepper sighs. She gentles her tone slightly and relaxes her posture.

"I guess I should be honest with you now: the only reason I was even dating you was to get to your dad. Howard's a great guy, Tony. I—I guess I could say I used you."

Disgusted, strangely not shocked, Tony walks over to the door and opens it. "Out," he says, and there's finality in his voice. "I want you out."

She walks over and stands in the doorway. "I can't believe you cheated on me with _Loki."_

"And I can't fucking understand why you're so upset about that when I wasn't even what you wanted."

Pepper looks momentarily sad, and Tony sighs. "Sorry it didn't work out, Pep," he says, and means it.

"Goodbye, Tony," is all she says in reply, before walking out.

He shuts the door behind her, goes over to his bed, and sinks down on the mattress. Removing another cigarette from his shirt pocket, he lights up and inhales, staring at the ceiling. "Goddammit, Loki," he mutters. "Fucking _hell."_

/

After the fight, Loki heads down to the quad, feeling the cold evening air surround him. He turns off his cell and sits at the same bench that he and Thor had their conversation on a few days ago. So Stark's reasoning behind the breakup wasn't logical. Why had Loki expected any different? He knows how Tony is, knows how insensitive he has always been, even when they were together. At least he's being honest for once—which is more than Loki can say for himself.

Twisting his body, he stares at the dorm, at the darkened windows. He could tell Tony what's going on—Thor knows, and Loki isn't sure how much longer his brother will be able to keep his mouth shut; Natasha suspects; Steve's seen the bruises, and probably mentioned it to Phil—but something's stopping him. He isn't sure what it is—an expectation, maybe, for Thanos to suddenly turn around, to apologize, though Loki knows it's ridiculous to even think something like that would ever happen. Maybe it's the sympathy he feels towards Thanos; maybe it's a hope for retribution, that Tony will find out on his own and come in and save Loki—

_The way he saved you from Odin, right?_ asks a nasty little voice at the back of his head, and Loki lets out a soft snarl between his teeth and faces forward again.

A few minutes later, he's still sitting outside, staring up at the stars, when he hears footsteps behind him and turns to find Thanos approaching. In the moonlight he looks cruel, cold, calculating, and it causes chills to rush up and down Loki's spine. Instinctively he stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets, forcing a smile on his face.

"Thanos," he starts, but Thanos hits him, hard, across the face, one of his rings smacking Loki in the lip. It's the sort of treatment Loki is used to from Odin, not his boyfriend, and he winces and stumbles back a few paces from the force of the blow.

"You… goddamn… _shit,"_ Thanos hisses through clenched teeth, and Loki wonders what's going on until he remembers what Tony yelled out the door after him, and he can feel the blood draining from his face.

"Thanos, I didn't—"

"You have been _fucking_ Tony Stark behind my back for the past two fucking _months?"_ Thanos is yelling, his voice carrying over the quad, and Loki wonders if anyone can hear them. He reaches up and touches his lip; blood trickles, salty and hot, from a cut inside his mouth. It tastes like copper, and he swallows, hoping it doesn't swell, knowing it will bruise, wondering how the fuck he's going to explain this one.

"To be fair," he says quietly, "we haven't been dating for two months…"

It's a mistake, and he knows that. Thanos grabs him, hard, by the shoulder, pulling him roughly to him so that their faces are almost touching. "Once I took you, you should have let that old memory die. I told you that you're mine, and mine alone, Loki. Do not make me remind you of just how hard I can mark you."

Then he kisses him, viciously, so that Loki's teeth cut into his already open skin again. It stings, and Loki makes a muffled sound of protest, but Thanos has him trapped so that he can't move away.

"You thought because I'm still sick you could fuck around and get away with it?" Thanos yells when he breaks the kiss. His skin is hot; sweat is breaking out over his forehead, but he doesn't make a move to go in, and Loki knows better than to suggest it.

"No, Thanos," he says. "That's not—"

"And what exactly were you hoping to gain by doing this, anyway? Do you think Tony's a better lay than I am? Did you think I'd break up with you just because you're running around with someone else?"

That gives Loki pause; because yes, subconsciously, he supposes he had been thinking that, but the way Thanos says it now… well. Loki's lived with Odin long enough to recognize that tone. What he wants—not that he'd ever admit it out loud but _god,_ he'd love for Thanos to break up with him—is clearly not going to happen. He swallows hard, averts his eyes.

"No, I just—"

"Good," Thanos spits, interrupting again. "Because I'm not going to split it off with you just because of some stupid mistake you made." He releases Loki with a sudden jerk of his hand, and Loki steps back, shaking now. "I'm going to stay with you, because I love you, and I know you love me too. But I swear to god, Laufeyson—" and he gets back in his face, and his voice goes deadly quiet—"if I _ever_ catch Tony near you again, if I ever suspect you two are communicating outside of rehearsals… I will fucking kill him. I will torture him, and then I will kill him. Is that clear?"

There is no emotion in his eyes. That same coldness Loki saw when he first met Thanos back in September is still present, but unlike before it doesn't draw Loki in, doesn't do anything but make him wonder how he could've been crazy enough to go out with this guy. He reaches up and touches his lip again, feeling it stretching a little, swollen.

He knows, now, that there is not much time before he has to tell Tony the truth.

"It's clear," he says quietly, in response to Thanos' statement, and instantly the death-obsessed sociopath becomes more complacent. Smiling in a way that makes him look almost normal, Thanos leans down and brushes his thumb against Loki's cut. Loki shivers but doesn't pull away, and Thanos murmurs:

"C'mon, let's go get that cleaned up. Then I gotta get back to bed before I make myself even sicker."

They walk back into the dorm together, a chill wind rushing against the backs of their necks, and Loki is too deep in his own thoughts to notice the beginnings of frost gathering on the edges of the windowpanes, signaling that winter isn't too far off.


	22. What Stays, What Fades

By the time Loki gets back to he and Tony's dorm room, it's nearly midnight. He lets himself in and tries to be as quiet as possible, but Tony wakes up anyway and leans on one elbow, squinting at Loki through the darkness.

"Hey, Shakespeare," he says. "Why are you coming in so late? More midnight excursions with Thanos?" It's his way of trying to get Loki to open up to him, but Loki either doesn't get the hint or completely ignores it as he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up.

"Why don't you ever open the windows when you smoke?" he asks, slipping off his shirt, allowing Tony a glimpse of pale skin swathed in moonlight. "It absolutely reeks in here."

Tony grins. "I like the smell." He moves slightly over on his mattress, turning a corner of the blanket down, and he's pretty sure Loki doesn't miss the invitation. "Come on, you like it too, admit it. You certainly put up with it when we were in high school and we went to all those underground Shakespeare plays where everyone was either putting away a pack of Marlboros an hour or a six-pack of beer."

Loki rolls his eyes and doesn't respond, keeping his back to Tony as he pulls off his jeans and slips into sweatpants and a well-worn wife beater. When he's dressed, he turns, and then Tony sees the cut, shining on his upper lip, a tiny bead of blood still caught in the cleft of his skin, the skin swollen and bruised around it. His eyes go wide, and he's out of bed before Loki can realize he's slipped.

"Jesus fucking Christ," says Tony, palming Loki's jaw in his hand. "Who did this to you?"

Loki stills beneath Tony's touch, goes tense. He shuts his eyes and swallows, and Thanos' words flash through his mind: _if I ever catch Tony near you again… I will torture him, and then I will kill him._ This is Tony's life at stake; this is not just a simple matter of keeping a few personal details behind closed doors anymore.

Shaking, confused, Loki jerks his head back. "No one, nothing. It's nothing, Stark."

"You can't tell me that's _nothing,_ Loki," Tony snaps, gesturing at the cut. "You remember earlier, I told you the truth about us. Now it's your turn. It's called reciprocation; it's just a little thing I think you owe me—"

"I don't _owe_ you anything," Loki spits.

Tony grits his jaw, grinding his teeth. He looks like he wants to hit something, his body twisting against itself, but instead turns from Loki and faces the window. "The bruises, and now this cut… Loki." His voice goes quiet, and he turns back around. "Loki, what is Thanos doing to you?" His brown eyes have gone wide, like he's just realizing it, like he's just put the pieces of the puzzle together, and he reaches out towards Loki's upper lip with unsteady fingers.

Loki jerks back like Tony's electrocuted him and casts his eyes down. "Just stay away from me, Stark," he murmurs, because maybe if Tony doesn't talk to him, his life will stop being at risk. And then Thanos won't be angry anymore, because without Tony there, there's no reason for Thanos to be angry at Loki. No reason at all. He moves towards the bathroom, but Tony's voice stops him, cutting through the air suddenly like a whip, voicing unexpected news:

"We broke up, Loki. Pepper and I, we ended it tonight. It's done with now."

Loki freezes mid-step. "Did she hear—"

Tony nods. "She heard," and then he's moving, catching Loki at the elbow, turning him around. "Loki," he says, heavily, and their mouths meet suddenly, hot and wet and desperate. It hurts when Tony touches the cut, and he tries to be gentle, but that's damn near impossible when Loki's hands are everywhere, those tantalizing long fingers moving on Tony's skin, underneath his shirt, teasing at his waistband. They barely make it to the bed before Loki's ripping Tony's shirt off and marking the skin underneath, leaving red spots on his collarbones, his sternum, at the base of his throat where the flesh is most sensitive. He pulls Tony's pants off and jerks him, and Tony arches into the touch, gasping and biting at Loki's skin. Loki pulls his sweatpants and his underwear off single-handedly, still shaking, and rolls his hips against Tony's, the friction of skin on skin heating up the room.

"I can't quit you," Loki says, his voice caught somewhere between a moan and a sob, and Tony frames his face between his hands.

"Don't try to," he says, and Loki shuts his eyes and reaches for the lube, cool and slick between his fingers, and tries, as he slams into Tony, not to think about what all this means, what it will do to both of them in the long run.

Later, lying in a tangled heap beneath stained sheets, sweat and sex permeating the air, the windows cracked despite the cold air outside, Tony slings an arm around Loki's shoulders, pressing his lips into the younger man's soft black hair.

"I know it's a bit early to be thinking about all this," he says, "but would you like to come to my house for Thanksgiving, instead of going to Odin's?"

Thanksgiving is a family holiday, and they both know that. But Loki's adoptive parents have never been big on the whole 'carve the turkey and make a list of what you're thankful for' thing, and Thor is a handful when he gets his mouth stuffed with too much cranberry sauce, which sort of happens every year. The way Loki sees the invitation, it's almost a plea for reconciliation, for forgiveness pertaining to what happened in December two years ago.

"I'll consider it, Stark," he murmurs, but they both know that means yes, and Tony can't keep the smile off his face when he pushes himself up on one elbow to kiss Loki again.

/

Two weeks later, Loki still hasn't told Tony where the cut is from, although he's ninety-nine percent positive that Tony has figured it out, especially when he sees the way Tony absolutely glares at Thanos when they happen to pass on the quad. This doesn't seem to phase Thanos at all; in fact, he seems happier now, or at least more content; he usually has a tiny, triumphant smirk on his face when he and Loki are out, holding him by an elbow, or with his arm looped around his waist. Loki is trying to avoid Thanos, of course, but it's not working, not when Thanos is right there, all the time, never further than a phone call or a text away.

Loki has stopped interacting with Tony in public, more, he tells himself, for his ex's safety than his own. Even during rehearsals he limits himself to nothing more than necessary interaction—asking for a bottle of water during breaks, or for a pin if his costume rips, and of course during their dialogue as Macbeth and Macduff. There is obvious tension between them, tension that they ignore until the nighttime, when they're alone in the privacy of their dorm room. Loki muffles his cries against Tony's skin, against the bed sheets, and Tony rocks against him and tries to convey 'sorry' and 'confide in me please' without saying anything at all. Sometimes they fuck like it's the first time; sometimes like they have eternity to get what they want from each other; sometimes hard and fast and bruising, in a way that brings a completely different kind of pain to Loki's body.

On the Monday before Thanksgiving, after a particularly long rehearsal, Thor comes up and catches Loki on his way out. Loki is with Thanos, who is wearing one of his trademarked shirts and looks annoyed at the interruption.

"Brother," says Thor. "Am I to understand that you are taking Thanksgiving dinner at Howard Stark's house?"

Thanos freezes, and Loki tenses up, biting his lower lip. "Thor, I'm in a rush, can we talk about this later?"

Thor is glaring at Thanos, who looks like he wants to strangle Loki but doesn't dare. "I feel like this is a perfectly appropriate time to bring it up, brother. I cannot seem to catch you anywhere else," and suddenly Loki sees what Thor's doing, sees that, in his own way, Thor is trying to save Loki from himself, and he knows it's not the best approach but it's better than nothing. He barely manages to fight the urge to throw his arms around Thor's neck.

"What's this about you going to Tony's for Thanksgiving?" snarls Thanos.

"He invited me," Loki says, staring at his feet. He can feel Thanos' eyes burning into the side of his face, but doesn't look up.

"Thanksgiving is a family holiday," Thanos snaps. "I would assume that you'd spend it at your home; or with _me,_ Lo', seeing as I am your boyfriend—"

"My brother," interrupts Thor, "is perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Whether or not you agree with these decisions is your affair, but do _not_ try and make Loki feel bad about what he wants to do."

Thanos glares at Loki, and at Thor. "You—"

And then Thor is all but pushing Thanos back against the wall, and for the first time since he's known him, Loki sees actual fear flash through his boyfriend's eyes. _"Heed my warning,_ Thanos," Thor says, voice deadly quiet. "If you lay a finger on my brother because of this, or because of anything else; if you harm him once more, you will pay for it. You might even end up in the hospital. Do not test me. Loki and I have had our differences in the past, this is true, but he is my brother, and I will not stand by and watch you hurting him any longer." He glances at Loki, then, eyebrows raised, and Loki feels a swell in his chest, like someone filled it with the ocean.

"Yeah, whatever," grunts Thanos, but it's obvious that he's scared. Thor gives him one last measuring look before walking off, and Loki trails his eyes after his brother as long as he can before he's gone from sight. (Maybe there is more to that big guy than he thought, and Loki's smiling inwardly, because he has to give credit where credit is due, and there is definitely something to say for Thor's performance.)

Then Thanos is gripping his wrist, thumbs digging into his flesh, leaning over so far their noses are touching. "You will _not_ go to Tony Stark's house for Thanksgiving," he breathes, all threatening looks and cold eyes, and in spite of himself Loki feels a chill run up his spine.

"Thanos," he says, quietly, not pulling away. "I think… I think we should take a break."

"With the _Macbeth_ performance this close?" Thanos' voice rises again, anger mixing with confusion. "Loki, what do you mean, 'a break'?"

"I mean I don't think we should see each other for a while," says Loki, and he wrenches his wrist out of Thanos' grip, rubbing at the tender skin. He's shaking so badly he thinks he's going to fall over, but Thanos doesn't make a move to hit him, or grab him; he just stands there, staring, looking more confused and hurt than angry.

It shouldn't make it harder to break up with him, but. Fuck. Loki is only human, and a compassionate one at that. Without thinking, he reaches out to touch Thanos' cheek, but Thanos jerks away from him.

"Fine," he spits. "Fine, we'll take a break. Maybe we do need one, considering who you're going to spend your Thanksgiving with and all." He turns away from Loki, who—for reasons he cannot figure out—actually feels _guilty._

"I am sorry, Thanos," murmurs Loki, but Thanos doesn't answer him, just storms off, fists clenched.

Loki thinks it's better that way, because he isn't sorry. Not even a little bit, and he feels a weight lifting off his chest. He breathes in deeply; smiles to himself.

When Tony comes out of the theater a few minutes later, Loki is still standing there, waiting for him.

"Where's Death Shirts?" Tony asks, curiously.

Loki shrugs. "We broke up," he says, and then Tony can't keep the smile off his face. He reaches down and takes Loki's hand, rubbing his thumb against the pale skin. Loki winces a little in spite of himself when Tony accidentally touches his fresh bruises, and Tony sighs, bites his lower lip.

"Shakespeare," he starts, sounding apologetic, but Loki shakes his head.

"It's okay," he says, and thinks, for the first time in a month, that it just might be.


	23. A Chemical that Burns, a Catalyst

Odin's furious, of course, that Loki wants to spend his Thanksgiving at Tony's house—he calls Loki's cell the night before they leave and yells loud enough for Tony, who is curled against Loki with his head resting in the crook of his shoulder, to hear.

_"Why are you spending Thanksgiving away from your family?"_

"What family?" Loki spits, and he can imagine his adoptive father seething in rage in their kitchen while Frigga tries unsuccessfully to calm him down.

"I have had it with your insolence, boy! You should not invade another family's home during a holiday. Didn't I teach you better than that?"

"I guess not." Loki rolls his eyes, shifting the phone and sliding his free hand against Tony's bare hip. "Anyway, who told you? Thor?"

"Yes," Odin snaps. "Of course Thor told me. He said you and Thanos… broke up?"

"It wasn't working out," Loki mutters, because he gets the feeling that Odin would probably condone the abusive factor. His father sighs heavily, as though Loki has done him an injustice.

"Do not expect me to welcome Anthony back into your life with open arms, boy," he says.

Loki hisses, "Like either of us give a fuck what you think," and then hangs up, tossing his phone to a corner of the bed and rolling over. Tony has a questioning look in his eyes, but Loki doesn't fill him in, just kisses him lightly before settling down under the blankets. Ever since Thanos and Loki broke up, things have been getting increasingly intimate between Loki and Tony—they aren't actually going out, but they sleep together, and they hold hands when they walk to their classes, and they might as well be a couple for all the wolf whistles Clint and Natasha give them. There seems to be an unspoken resolution between them, to wait until after the dinner before they decide where they're going to go next in their relationship.

"Loki," says Tony, after a long silence, when Loki has nearly drifted into sleep.

"Tony," says Loki in reply, moving so that his head is sticking out of the blankets.

Tony hesitates. He stares into Loki's eyes, like shimmering pools of emerald; he traces his thumb along the high rise of Loki's sharp cheekbones, and he finds himself wanting to apologize—and Tony Stark doesn't apologize, ever—for never doing anything about Thanos, for letting it go on even after he'd started to suspect something was wrong.

"Do you still like Spinach Madeline instead of sweet potatoes?" he asks, finally, and curses inwardly because that isn't what he intended to say and it sounded so _stupid,_ so _off._

Loki looks bemused, tilting his head slightly to one side. _Sweet potatoes?_ "Yes," he says, wondering why Tony's asking him this _now._ "Yes, and you remembered. I'm flattered, Tony."

"Don't let it go to your head," Tony says, but it's obvious he's relieved that the conversation took a turn away from where it was originally headed. (Where, exactly, it was headed, Tony's not sure, but he's glad he didn't have to try and figure it out.)

"I'll leave you to having an inflated ego the size of Alaska." Loki smiles and ducks under the covers again, and Tony chuckles softly, his chest vibrating against Loki's lips.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, Loki's mouth still pressed to Tony's skin, Tony's fingers twined in Loki's soft black hair.

/

Tony pulls up in his father's driveway the following day at noon, Iron Maiden blaring from his speakers. He tugs the keys out of the ignition and then just sits there, staring up at the house—more like a mansion, actually; Stark Industries has really become successful in the last couple of years and Tony would be proud of his dad if Howard had made half his money honestly—wondering if maybe this idea is a mistake. Mr. Stark senior didn't exactly sound thrilled when Tony called him and said they were having company for Thanksgiving dinner—although Tony suspects Howard would have outright refused if he'd identified who said company would be.

"Just so you know," Tony says as he slides out of the car, "my dad isn't exactly singing praises about us having a guest today."

"Odin and Howard should get together for lunch," Loki mumbles, and Tony laughs and offers him his arm, which Loki accepts, looking surprised but pleased. His pale fingers curve into the crook of Tony's elbow; it's a nice fit, and it makes them both smile as they walk up to the front door.

Howard's half-brother Jarvis, the only member of the Stark family who can cook decently at large meals, answers the door. Of everyone remaining after Maria's death, Tony thinks Jarvis is the only person in their family who ever approved of anything he did, even Loki.

"Hey, Jarvis," says Tony, giving his uncle a clap on the shoulder. "I brought someone." Loki sends Jarvis a half-smile, and Jarvis smiles back but raises his eyebrows.

"Is Howard—"

Loki goes tense, and Tony's eye twitches a little bit. "He'll know in a second," he grunts, leading Loki inside. The dining room is spacious, with a long table set up for four people, and candles in the center. Tony sighs, because extravagance is something Howard's always put emphasis on even if it's not necessary, and he and Loki go into the living room.

"Your son is here," Jarvis says to Howard, a bit icily because Howard really should be aware of that already, before returning to the kitchen. Howard is busy on his laptop but glances up long enough to take in Tony and Loki.

"Oh," is the first thing he says. _"That's_ who you brought? I was expecting Pepper."

"Yeah, well, life is full of disappointments," Tony replies sarcastically. "You could just say 'hi', Dad. It's easier."

Howard pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his laptop, standing up. Like his son, he's dressed in an impeccable suit. "Anthony," he says warningly. "I have a headache. Don't test my patience."

"Wouldn't want to do that, would we?" Tony murmurs, but he backs off, mostly because it's Thanksgiving and they're supposed to be _grateful_ for the shit in their lives. Loki curls his fingers against Tony's wrist gently, his cool skin assuaging a bit of the older man's anger. They sit on the couch, silently watching football on ESPN for a half hour before Jarvis announces the food is ready. Howard appears from a back room, his face a little paler than usual, and the four of them take plates and go into the dining room, settling around the long table.

"So, Loki," says Howard, after a few minutes of strained silence. "What are you studying this year?"

"Linguistics and literature," says Loki, taking a bite of turkey.

"You make good grades?"

Tony lets out an exasperated sigh. "Oh for Christ's sake, Dad, not all of us give a shit about whether your report card has all A's on it, you know."

Loki arches an eyebrow. "I make decent grades," he says, but Howard doesn't hear him. He's glaring at Tony, and Loki swears he sees a vein pulsating in the elder Stark's temple.

"You'd be singing a different tune if you were more adept to focusing in college, instead of running around _fucking_ every human being you see," Howard snarls, taking a sip of wine as he speaks. A line of red liquid slides from the corner of his mouth and both Tony and Loki wear identically disgusted expressions.

"Howard," starts Jarvis, around a mouthful of potato, but no one hears him either.

"Hey, Dad, just a heads up: I don't _fuck_ every human being I see," Tony snaps. "I know how to keep it under control."

"Where is Pepper, then?" Howard replies automatically, taking a bite of Spinach Madeline and rubbing his left arm absently.

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly; tries to remind himself that it's _Thanksgiving_ and even though his dad is a fucking asshole he really should keep his temper in check—and then thinks, _fuck that._ "We broke up, okay? We're over with. _Finis_ relationship."

Loki gives Tony a sidelong, partially impressed glance at the improvised Latin.

"So you're with _him_ again, then?" Howard asks, jabbing his fork at Loki, drinking more wine, sweating a little.

"Not exactly," Tony says, and takes a huge bite of turkey so he won't have to speak for a while.

The rest of dinner is a stilted affair, punctuated by occasional questions from Jarvis about their classes, about the rest of their friends. Tony finishes eating first and waits, glaring at his father, for Loki to finish as well before gathering up his plates and carrying them into the kitchen. Loki follows, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and turning on the tap water.

"That went well," says Loki, sarcastically. Tony snorts.

"What did I expect from him?" he mutters, half to himself. "Jesus, he's such a self-righteous _prick_ …" They're quiet for a while, just standing side-by-side, washing their dishes and putting them in the dishwasher; then Loki leans back against the sink, all grace and elegance, the line running from the base of his ear down his pale throat exposed, and Tony wants, and wants, and wants.

"About what Howard mentioned earlier," Loki starts. "When he asked if we were together…?"

Tony stares unabashedly at the sharp lines of Loki's collarbones. "Yeah?"

"Is that something you want?" There is something hopeful in Loki's voice, with an undercurrent of quiet desperation, and Tony snaps his eyes up to Loki's just in time to see him flush, red flags of color riding high on his cheeks.

Tony breathes out. "You know I'm not the best candidate for a relationship," he says, but he says it half-heartedly, with his fingers reaching out to cup Loki's jaw.

"I want you, Stark," Loki says quietly, and Tony feels a shiver run down his spine. "Not just late at night in our dorm room. I would drink coffee with you in the mornings; I would walk with you to class; I would have dinner with you every evening on the quad, or out, or in our room if you so choose." His speech has lapsed into Shakespearean again—something he does, Tony's noticed, when he's nervous. He's half leaning into Tony's touch. It suddenly occurs to him that both of them are shaking.

Tony swallows. He wants this, too, he knows that now, wants it more than he's wanted anything in a long time, but. There's the whole issue of trust, and the fact that Tony wasn't really _there_ when Loki needed him this year, and about a thousand other things, problems that mostly stem from the fact that they're both volatile and needy and will not go a day without hurting each other. He wants to say all of this to Loki, wants to convey it in some way, but emotions are not Tony's strong point and never have been.

"If you are not ready for us to be together again so soon after Pepper, I shall understand," murmurs Loki, after a long pause. Tony shakes his head to clear it; it occurs to him that he's been standing here, silent, for at least five minutes. He opens his mouth to tell Loki _no, I'm not ready because I don't know how to handle the way I feel about you and I don't want to fuck it up again,_ but he hasn't even gotten the words out when there is a crash in the dining room and Jarvis yells:

"Fucking Christ, Tony, call nine-one-one, your dad just had a heart attack!"


	24. This Time

They don't let Tony ride in the ambulance with his father.

He's not entirely sure why he's so upset; it's not like he ever gave a fuck about the man anyway. But there's something about seeing Howard Stark, ruthless billionaire and inventor, getting loaded into the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask over his face and three doctors yelling medical jargon and pumping his chest repeatedly with their strong hands, that makes Tony feel a strange pang of loss. He and Loki and Jarvis stand at the entrance to the house and watch them take Howard off to the hospital. Loki's arm is looped around Tony's waist, but for once he doesn't mind feeling like he needs protection. A chill wind blows against them, whipping up brown and yellow and red leaves around their feet, carrying the sound of the siren as it fades into the distance.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he says, drily.

/

Tony drives with Loki next to him in the passenger's seat and a shaken Jarvis in the back. For once he has nothing sarcastic to say, nothing to offer other than rapidly drumming fingers on the steering wheel as he moves through traffic and into the parking lot of the hospital. The three of them go into the emergency room, and wait, staring unblinkingly at the clock on the wall, until a doctor sticks his head out of the double doors off to the side and says:

"Anyone here for Howard Stark?"

They get up and the doctor tells them it's not serious, it was just a minor heart attack, the angioplasty is done, and he's not in the ICU anymore. "He's asking for Jarvis Stark," the doctor adds, glancing down at his clipboard, and Tony feels a sharp jerk at the back of his throat, a pricking in his eyelids. It's not like he was _expecting_ his dad to be asking for him, but still. It would be nice if Howard could have acknowledged Tony's existence at a time like this. He and Loki go upstairs with Jarvis and the doctor, and they sit in cushioned chairs and wait while Jarvis goes into Howard's room.

"Jesus," says Tony, running his fingers through his hair. "He probably thinks I stayed home."

"Probably," Loki agrees quietly, picking at a loose thread on his chair. After a while he puts his hand on Tony's, and Tony doesn't pull away. Loki can feel him shaking with the effort to hold himself together, and his own heart starts to ache.

"Shit," says Tony suddenly, his voice hoarse like he's been sleeping for a while. "I need to call Pepper and tell her what happened." He reaches into his back pocket, and Loki moves his hand away, a shadow crossing his face. Tony dials the number and presses the phone to his ear.

After a few seconds, Pepper's voice comes through the speaker:

"Tony? What are you calling me for?"

"It's Dad," Tony starts. "He's in the hospital."

Loki can hear Pepper's shriek from where he's sitting, half a foot away. "Oh my _god!"_ she yells. "Howard's been _hospitalized?_ What for?"

"He had a heart attack. He's okay, Pepper—"

But Pepper's not listening. "Fuck, Tony, he had a _heart attack_ and you're telling me he's going to be _okay?_ I'm not a doctor or anything but isn't that actually kind of _impossible?_ I mean, won't he die?"

Tony presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose and breathes out low through his mouth. "They said it was a minor—"

"What hospital are you at?" she interrupts, speaking at a rapid-fire pace. "I need to get there _right now_ before something happens!"

Tony tells her. "But I don't think they'll—"

"Shut up, Anthony," she snaps, and then there's a click and the line goes dead. Tony hits the 'end' button on his cell and shoves it back into his pocket. Turning to Loki, who is staring at his long fingers, twisting them over each other like an elegant puzzle in his lap, he says:

"Well, that's certainly a reaction I'd never get from her if I was in the hospital."

Loki glances up and sees it, that self-hating smirk on Tony's face. It's a little bit wicked, a little bit mad, a little bit twisted; like looking at a reflection in a broken mirror. He reaches out and touches his cheek, stroking his thumb over the skin, murmurs, "Stark," and manages to keep it from sounding like an insult. Loki covers Tony's hands with his and moves, and Tony moves, and they kiss, roughly, brokenly. Loki keeps his hands steady on Tony's and softens the kiss by degrees; slowly brings one hand up to cradle Tony's jaw. When they break apart, Tony is crying, but Loki doesn't mention it.

"About what you said in the kitchen," Tony starts hesitantly. "About us getting together."

Loki studies his face, and stays silent.

"I'd like to, but."

"…But?" Loki prompts, after a minute.

"But I fuck up, and you know that more than anyone else, and I don't want to fuck us up again, okay? Loki, you're kind of important to me—"

"Kind of, thanks, Tony."

"—seriously, and I have this thing where I don't do emotions—"

"I've noticed."

"—so it's kind of weird for me to feel how I feel about you."

"And how do you feel?" Loki asks softly, already half-knowing the answer, his heart pounding, hard, against his ribcage.

Tony hesitates. "I can't describe it," he says. "I've never been much of a writer," and they both laugh at that, and then they kiss again, because their noses brush and _why the fuck not_ and about a million other little reasons that have to do with the cologne Tony's wearing and the way Loki's hair smells like winter and how his eyes are like emerald windowpanes.

"We could try it, you know," Tony says, when they pull apart. "Being together again, I mean."

"I'd like that," says Loki quietly.

"I just want you to know that I'm holding you under no obligations to trust me for at least the first six months." Tony's half-smiling, but it isn't reaching his eyes, and beneath the topmost thought of _he said six months_ is a slight, lingering doubt, at the very back of Loki's mind. Because there _is_ that trust issue. Because he _knows_ what Stark is getting at, and he doesn't like it very much. He swallows.

"Tony, is this about Pepper, because—"

"It's not just Pepper," Tony interrupts. "It's every fucking thing ever, but especially this year, Shakespeare; I stood by and _let_ that bastard do what he did to you."

Loki's eyes widen. "You think Thanos was _your_ fault?"

The self-deprecating smirk is back, with an edge. "I gotta take the credit for everything in some way, don't I?" he asks, voice heavy with an emotion Loki cannot identify, and the younger man is torn between wanting to scream at Tony until his throat is sore and wanting to take him in the nearest broom closet and show him exactly _why_ they need to be together, rough past be damned.

"Tony—" he starts, but then his cell phone rings, cutting him off. With a soft sigh, he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. The number is blocked, and Loki raises an eyebrow before hitting 'talk'.

"Hello?" he says cautiously.

There's a pause and a soft scuffling sound, then an all-too-familiar voice asks:

"Loki? Where the hell are you?"

Loki feels the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Thanos," he says, hoarsely, and Tony stares at him, at the Android, with a raw, pained expression in his eyes. "Jesus, what do you want?"

"I want to know where you are," Thanos snaps. "I'm at your house right now and your dad said you went to Thanksgiving dinner at the Starks', but when I called that place of residency no one answered."

"That's because we left," Loki mutters, and hates himself for feeling utterly _terrified_ just from the sound of his ex's voice. "Where's Thor?" he adds, as an afterthought, because there's no way in hell that Thor would've let Thanos in.

"He's out with Jane." Thanos is smirking, Loki can tell. "Please come to your house, Lo'. I need to talk to you about some stuff. You don't understand what our break-up has done to me. I've really seen the light about our relationship, about what went wrong." He pauses, and Loki finds himself wondering how much of this speech is rehearsed. "I'd like a second chance."

Loki glances at Tony. "It's too late for that."

There's another, slightly longer pause. "What do you mean by that?" Thanos asks suspiciously.

"Tony and I are back together," Loki replies, and a small smile threads its way across Tony's face.

"…Put that fucking asshole on the line," snarls Thanos. _"Put him on, goddammit!"_ and Loki hands over his Android. Tony raises his eyebrows but takes it and slides it against his ear.

"Hello?"

"Anthony Edward Stark, hear me out. I don't want you dating Loki."

"Who are you, my mom?" Tony spits. "I'll date whoever the fuck I want to."

"He's my boyfriend!"

"If I recall correctly, he broke up with you. Come by the hospital, get a memory check. You're losing it, Thanos."

"He just hasn't seen the error of his ways, that's all."

Tony's other eyebrow slides up. "The error of his ways? Jesus fucking Christ, you fucked up the entire first semester of his sophomore year at Berkeley. You fucked up his grades, you fucked up his relationships with everyone; I'm pretty sure that given the chance, you would've sabotaged _Macbeth_ for him somehow. I could learn a little about screwing people over from you."

"You, who cheated on him?" Thanos is sneering; Tony can hear it through the phone. "Oh yes, I'm sure I should be listening to you, Anthony. You've got the perfect track record when it comes to these things. I never cheated."

"Yeah," Tony snaps, "but you raped him. And you fucking beat him. And you made him feel like shit. One night he came to our dorm room with blood trickling from his upper lip and told me it was 'nothing'. Once Thor took me aside after rehearsals and asked me to take the cleaner off the floor because his brother had _slipped_ and hit his cheek on the doorknob. And you think you can sit there and tell me you're more virtuous than I am? Let me tell _you_ something, Thanos: if you ever _think_ about touching Loki again, you'll have to deal with me and Thor and probably Nat and Clint. And you don't want that, even on a bad day. Trust me."

There's a long pause. All Tony can hear is Thanos' breathing, steadily, in and out, and for some reason it freaks him out.

Then Thanos laughs. It's low and sinister, and Tony has to hold the phone away from his ear because it's kind of scaring him a little bit. "I'll stay away from Loki, Tony," Thanos says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust _me."_

"Good," says Tony, and hangs up, and wonders why the hell that sounded so… _off._ But he doesn't really have time to contemplate it before Loki's in his lap, kissing him hungrily.

"So is this a thing now or…?" Tony asks after a while.

Loki breaks away from him long enough to stare into his eyes, holding his head in his hands. "Tony Stark," he says, "you are absolutely the most brilliant, flawed, fucked-up mind of our generation. If I cannot have you as my boyfriend, if I cannot do all those things I told you in your father's kitchen… I don't know what I will do."

Tony smiles, a real smile for once, and leans in to kiss Loki again. They are still in that position an hour and a half later when Jarvis comes back out and tells them Howard's asleep and it's time to go.


	25. Making the Green One Red

That night, they sleep together in Tony's room, instead of going straight back to Berkeley. Jarvis has agreed to stay in the house until Howard is well enough to come back, but he keeps out of their way and they don't make much noise. Loki stays awake long after Tony, and looks down at him, at the way his soft brown hair is splayed messily over the pillow. He softly kisses the warm skin on Tony's shoulder and thinks how lucky he is, how goddamn lucky.

In the morning, they wake up wrapped around each other, like old times. "Morning, Shakespeare," Tony mumbles, smiling and kissing Loki's forehead, and Loki doesn't even try to fight the warmth that spreads through his chest like wildfire. They pack up their clothes from yesterday and Tony grabs a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt for himself from his closet, while Loki slips into the slacks and emerald green button-down he brought with him. They don't say much, but then they don't have to.

Breakfast is sweet rolls and milk with a note from Jarvis saying 'good luck for the rest of the semester; see you boys at Christmas!' Loki raises his eyebrows at Tony, an unspoken question on his face, and Tony sighs.

"At this point I don't even know if I'm going to want to see the bastard for Christmas," he says. "I mean… for Christ's sake, he didn't even want to see me in the hospital. His own son," and the sadness in his voice is masked with hatred. He clenches his fists against the table and Loki doesn't push him further, although he does wonder where they will be spending Christmas since his house is obviously out and he doubts that either of them could afford a hotel room for that long.

On the ride back to Berkeley, Tony seems to perk up some, fiddling with the radio until something comes on that satisfies both of them—orchestral covers of classic rock songs. They keep their hands twined together between them, a small smile playing on Loki's face. Twice, Loki's phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it.

They park the car in the garage and walk back to the campus, and there they are greeted by Steve and Phil, who happen to be walking up at the same time they are. Steve's eyes dart between them, where they're holding hands; his lips quirk up and he says:

"So you guys are back together, then?"

For an answer, Loki leans against Tony, and Tony makes a face that is caught between affection and something deeper, something Steve cannot identify. Phil smiles, and makes a comment about how they look good together ("we always look good, Coulson," is Tony's response, and Loki just rolls his eyes and laughs) and then they say goodbye and move on.

Clint is stretched across a bench outside the dormitory, with Natasha sitting beside him, drinking something that's sending steam into the frosty air, her red hair hanging around her face. Clint nudges Natasha when he sees Tony and Loki, and Natasha glances up.

"Well, it's about time," she says with a grin. "Don't fuck up this time, okay guys?"

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Romanoff."

Natasha shrugs and goes back to her drink; she looks like she's trying not to laugh. Clint props himself up on one elbow and says:

"Congratulations, guys," and then, to Natasha, he adds, "Way to start them off, Tasha."

His yelps of surprised pain follow a laughing Loki and Tony as they walk away.

On the ride up to the third floor, Tony leans in and kisses Loki, slowly, because he can, pressing him against the chrome polished sides of the elevator. Loki's phone buzzes a third time but both of them are too concerned with the way the other tastes to pay attention to it.

"Let's go on a date," Loki suggests, when they've put their stuff up in their dorm room. "Something simplistic. Coffee, perhaps?"

Tony smiles. "You just can't wait to get on with that coffee, can you, Shakespeare?" He lightly nudges Loki, who just shakes his head, smiling also. They are nearly out the door when Tony stops; presses Loki against the wall; kisses him, harder than before, with a strange undercurrent of desperation and longing. He runs his fingers through Loki's hair, capturing his lips between his own, like it's the first time. When he pulls away from him, there's a heaviness in his eyes, something deep and passionate that Loki has never seen before.

"Loki," he says, voice hoarse. "I—" And then he stops, clears his throat. Loki looks at him, confused.

"You… what?" he prompts, but Tony just shakes his head. His smile is still there, but it's faltering slightly.

"Nothing," he says. "C'mon, let's go get that drink." They head out together, fingers intertwined, and Loki figures he can forget that whole strange incident ever happened.

They have nearly reached the street when a voice behind them booms, "Brother!" and Loki physically winces, managing an eye roll and an exasperated sigh before Thor's hand clasps itself onto his shoulder. He and Tony turn, and Thor beams at both of them. (Bruce, standing next to him, just looks a little sheepish and offers Tony a small smile and a 'good job Tony'.)

"Did you not receive my texts?" Thor asks Loki, and Loki glances sideways at Tony and shakes his head. Thor shrugs, mutters something about his phone being broken, and Tony laughs a little, smothering it with a cough.

"So I received news that the two of you are a couple again," Thor is saying (actually really yelling).

Loki nods, and a tiny, genuine smile forms on his face. It's about the fiftieth smile he's had on today, and it feels strange, after being miserable for so long. "We got back together yesterday," he says.

"I am very, very happy for you, brother," says Thor, but then he turns to Tony, and although he's still smiling, it's taken on a different edge, and Tony finds himself backing up a step.

"Anthony," says Thor. "I am most pleased that you and my brother have taken the initiative and rejoined yourselves into a relationship. But know this: if you harm Loki, if you hurt him the way Thanos did, or if you find yourself repeating the incidents of two years ago, I will personally see to your death. I have not done right by my brother in the past, but I wish that to change, and it will start now."

Tony swallows, glances at Loki. To his surprise, Loki doesn't look pissed off, or annoyed; actually, he's _smiling_ at Thor, and Thor is smiling back, and it's the most familial intimacy Tony's ever experienced around them. He can see the happiness literally radiating off the elder Odinson, although whether it's happiness at Loki's new relationship or happiness at his brother not snapping his head off, Tony isn't sure.

Then Thor's clasping his shoulder. "Do you understand me, Anthony?" he asks.

"Yeah, I got the message, Big Guy," Tony grunts, and Thor nods and releases him.

"Be good to my brother," he says. "Perhaps someday you shall become part of our family. Now please excuse me, as I have to go find Jane and inform her of the news," and with a last, parting wave, he walks off. Bruce sends Tony one last grin, one that clearly says _good luck with all that,_ and walks off as well.

Loki watches Thor walking off. He's really not that bad of a guy, his older brother. Ever since the _incident_ with Thanos before Thanksgiving, Loki's been developing a newfound respect for Thor. (Not that he'd ever admit it to himself or to anyone else, but even so, it's nice to know that maybe one day he can actually learn to love his adoptive sibling.)

"Hey," says Tony suddenly, worriedly, breaking Loki out of his reverie. "You don't really think Thor is gonna kill me, do you?"

Loki laughs softly, pressing his fingers down against Tony's forearm. "Just make sure you don't break my heart, and I think we'll be okay." It's meant as a joke, and they both know it, but there's a weight behind the words, and Tony swallows hard as he and Loki cross the street and head into the coffee shop.

He finds himself wondering if there will ever come a day when their past won't emerge between them at least once, like a dark, hissing, evil snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter so I apologize for both the length and the lack of action. I really didn't want to do this but it happened anyway.
> 
> On the bright side, there's a slight bit of fluff~


	26. As Before I Went Under

As happy as Tony is with Loki, he knows it won't last.

It can't, not the way they've always been, the way they still are now. They are going to fight, Tony knows, and one of them is going to push it too far, and then it's going to be over again. And Tony's not sure if he's going to be able to pick up the pieces and restart a second time.

He's not sure if Loki's going to want him to.

Even so, he can't help enjoying the time he has with Loki, can't help but pretend like he thinks that it's going to last a lifetime. On mornings when they have rehearsals—the only time Tony ever gets up early—they wake up at the same time and usually shower together, laughing about the lack of space and sliding hot, wet hands over each other's bodies. On mornings when they don't, Tony wakes up to find Loki already gone to class, but there's always something waiting for him on the table between their beds—a fresh pack of cigarettes (and Tony will never not appreciate that because he knows Loki doesn't exactly approve of his smoking), or the name of the restaurant Loki wants to eat at that night (though usually they don't eat out except on weekends), or just a little note, reading something along the lines of _invent something today_ or _good luck on your physics paper._ During the day, if they can manage to meet up between classes and study periods, they do—stopping in coffee shops for a drink and some cake, or just sitting on a bench on the quad, or heading down to the gym for a quick workout session that leaves both of them sweat-soaked and wanting the other. Nights are, of course, the same as they've been all semester, but there's something different about the sex now, something more intimate. Often, afterwards, when they're lying in each other's arms, not saying anything, Tony will try and put a finger on the feeling, but he never can.

He still doesn't do emotions, after all.

(There are moments during the day when it enters Tony's head that he might actually be in love with Loki, but there's something final about love that he's not ready to deal with, so he ignores his thoughts.)

But Christmas draws closer, and they're still together, and Tony's starting to think they might make it this time. He's only a little worried that Thanos hasn't made contact with either of them, not once, since his phone call to Loki during Thanksgiving. Occasionally he sees the guy walking around campus, wearing one of those weird, dark shirts of his, headphones running up through his shirt and into his ears. Once, just once, he and Thanos made eye contact, and it was the scariest five seconds of Tony's entire life. He spent the rest of that particular day wondering why Loki ever went out with Thanos to begin with. Still, he's staying out of Loki's way, like he said he would, and that's all Tony really cares about.

About three days before the _Macbeth_ performance—three days, fourteen hours, and thirty-five minutes to be exact, not that Tony's counting down or getting nervous as _fuck_ about forgetting his stage directions or his lines or anything—they have a particularly strenuous rehearsal that lasts an hour longer than usual, mostly because they're using their costumes now and not everyone understands the concept of Shakespearean dress. When it's over, the drama instructor calls Tony over to discuss one of Macduff's scenes, and Loki goes backstage by himself to wait for his boyfriend.

He's just finished putting his regular clothes back on and is about to head over to the water fountain when an all-too-familiar voice calls out behind him:

"Loki! Wait up, just wait for a second."

He doesn't want to turn, but his feet stop of their own accord and he finds himself looking over his shoulder at none other than Thanos, who is walking up to him with a barely suppressed smile on his face and his head slightly tilted, like he's curious about something. Loki notices he's wearing one of the shirts he designed while they were still together—before all the _shit_ started—and though he doesn't want to, he grows almost wistful.

"Thanos," he says, nodding his head in acknowledgement and thinking, almost subconsciously, that there's no way Thanos can hurt him here, not with all these people around. Even so, he takes a step back, fingers brushing the brick wall behind him.

Thanos steps forward— _of course,_ Loki thinks, annoyed—and cranks his smile up a notch. "It's been a while, huh, Lo'? How are you?"

"I'm okay," mutters Loki, staring at his feet and wondering why Thanos is acting like this and hating himself for reverting so instantly to the passive state he was usually in around his ex. "You?"

"I've been getting by," says Thanos, staring into Loki's eyes, looking just as cold and almost-dead as he ever did. "Been missing you, though."

"If you hadn't treated me like shit, I wouldn't have broken up with you," Loki replies, still looking at his feet but instinctively flinching back, half expecting Thanos to hit him or at least start screaming at him.

Instead, Thanos just sighs. "Again, Loki, I have seen the error of my ways. I'm ready to try again whenever you are. In the meantime, however… I have finally decided that I'm okay with you dating Tony. That's not to say that you won't always be first in my heart, but if you feel the need to use him as a rebound while you're trying to figure out your true feelings for me—"

Loki snaps his head up. "Tony is not a rebound—"

"—then I'll have to be okay with it. I respect your decision, Lo'."

"I don't need your _consent_ to date Tony, Thanos. Nor is he a 'rebound' from you. He and I—" and here Loki pauses, because honestly, he's not sure _what_ he and Tony are, aside from 'happier than either of them have been in two years'. He's in love with Tony, he knows that for sure—and it's one of the rare moments when he's not even going to bother denying his feelings to himself so he hopes Stark knows how damn lucky he is—but he's not one hundred percent positive that Tony feels the same way (although he has, occasionally, caught the older man looking at him over their coffee or their dinner or in the early hours of the morning, and the expression in his eyes is always raw and tender and completely unlike any other emotion he ever shows). Loki falters, and Thanos grabs onto it like a lifeline.

"Lo', I swear, I've changed. I'll be better; it'll be like it was in September. I still love you. I'm not selfish like Tony." He reaches out and tucks his fingers under Loki's chin, and Loki winces. "This is your last chance to see what a huge mistake you're making."

"It's not a mistake," Loki says automatically, because it's not, not to him anyway, and something clouds over in Thanos' eyes and grows dark. His hand slides down from Loki's chin to his throat, and suddenly he's choking him, or nearly, pushing him back against the wall hard enough to make the brick dig through his thin green shirt and into his skin.

 _"Tony Stark is a mistake!"_ he yells, and because they are pretty far from the food table, there aren't any other people near them anymore—and damn, Loki wishes he'd noticed that before; he always seems to get himself into these sorts of things. The younger man flinches, shutting his eyes, and suddenly a pair of hot, slightly chapped lips are pressed to his, the familiar taste of spice and apples and something else, something darker and less identifiable, filling his mouth. Thanos keeps one hand on Loki's throat but slides the other over his arm, down to his hand, thumb encircling his palm. Loki doesn't kiss back, but that doesn't deter Thanos, who just keeps biting Loki's lower lip and occasionally pushing him harder against the wall.

Finally, though, he does pull away from him—though he leaves their faces less than an inch from each other—and licks his lips, sneering a little. "Tony is a mistake," he repeats, softer now. "You just proved my point."

"I never kissed back," Loki replies, and is surprised at how shaky his voice is. Thanos slides his hand up a bit so he can dig his thumb into Loki's wrist, applying a slight bit more pressure to his neck.

Loki thinks he won't be breathing pretty soon.

With an effort—because Loki is pretty well-built, despite his sinewy appearance, but Thanos is incredibly strong—he manages to jerk his head out of Thanos' grasp. "Fuck off," he snarls, and it's then that Tony, who is _finally_ done talking to the teacher and was starting to wonder where Loki was, comes up, red-faced and furious. He grabs Thanos and hauls him off Loki, slamming his fist into the side of his face.

"You fucking liar," Tony snaps. "You said you'd leave him alone."

"And so I have, Stark," Thanos replies, his voice taking on a snakelike quality; all slippery and smooth and completely damaged underneath. "I was just making sure that he didn't want to return to me. That's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't." Tony fixes his eyes onto Thanos' and immediately regrets it, because the guy isn't just masking his emotions, he _doesn't have any_ —except maybe anger and hate, and even that's buried underneath layers and layers of pure ice. He swallows, but keeps his gaze, and after a few seconds Thanos laughs, and steps away from both of them, in the direction of the exit. A dark bruise is beginning to develop on his cheek, and Tony wonders how he's going to make it through the performance without sweating off all the cover-up he's probably going to need.

"Obviously," Thanos repeats. "Well. Goodbye, Lo'. Goodbye, Tony." He pauses, like he's thinking, then that sneer returns. "I look forward to seeing you both on the night of the play." He walks off, and Tony tries to ignore the chill that runs up his spine.

Once Thanos is out of sight, Tony turns to face Loki, who is alternatively rubbing the hollow of his throat and his wrist. He walks forward two steps and takes Loki's arm in his hand, lifting it to his face.

"Let me look," he says. Bruises—faint, but obvious—mar the pale skin. It's like it was before, and Tony hates himself for not coming sooner. "Jesus, Shakespeare."

It's what Tony always says when something bad happens to Loki—and usually it's amusing or endearing or a number of other at least slightly positive adjectives, but today it just grates on his nerves. "It's fine," he mutters, pulling away.

Tony frowns. "Hey," he says. "I'm just trying to be here for you. You know, moral support, take a little of the edge off—would it help if I took you back to the dorm room and blew you in the shower?" He's not sure why he's being so snarky all of a sudden—except that Loki's attitude is confusing him, and when Tony Stark gets confused, he gets angry.

"I'd prefer not, Stark," Loki murmurs coolly. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, that's debatable," snaps Tony, without thinking, and Loki, who had been on the verge of walking away, stops, his spine stiffening.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just what it sounds like." Tony moves so that he and Loki are facing again, and anger battles for a second with concern on his face before the former wins out. "You claimed to be over Thanos, and yet just now you were talking to him again, letting him treat you like shit, the way he used to… Face it, Laufeyson; you can't get away from him. You don't _want_ to."

Loki narrows his eyes. "How _dare_ you accuse me of not having control of my own life?"

"Think about it, will you? Every damn time Thanos tries to pull some shit with you, it's always either me or Thor that has to intervene. It's almost like you _want_ him to stay in your life."

"I _don't,"_ hisses Loki. "You do realize, I suppose, that our conversation just now wasn't voluntary on my part?"

"Yeah, but you let it happen, Loki." Tony's fists clench inside his jacket; he's furious, seething, and it's a few minutes before he realizes that he's not angry at Loki, he's _terrified_ for him. He's seen the effects Thanos has had on Loki—the way the darker haired man flinches if Tony moves too fast near him, the way he's still extremely hesitant about letting himself be taken (not that Tony minds, really, it just makes him sad), the uncertainty he exhibits if he has to make his own choices—and Tony's afraid that the hold Thanos has might still be there, lingering just below the surface, and if Loki doesn't fight it, it will never go away. "You let it happen; you let him think he's still got some power over you—"

"I have never given Thanos any reason to think that. I made it very clear to him just now that I never want to see him again—"

"Which is why he was walking away from you so quickly, right?"

"Stark—" Loki starts, a warning.

"All I know is that what I saw didn't look like you getting him away from you at all; it looked like Thanos was fucking you up again and you were just _taking_ it. If you really had gotten the message across to him when you broke up, he wouldn't be speaking to you now at all—"

"Yes," Loki interjects coolly, "just as effectively as you got your message across to him back in November, correct?"

Tony opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. His jaw works; his throat is clogged and bitter with the words he's holding back.

Finally, he says, "He left you alone for a whole month, Loki. You can't say what I did wasn't… well, that it didn't have an impact on him."

"Yes, it did affect him in some way, I will allow you that. However, you _cannot_ tell me what I said was any less effective than what you said—"

" _All I'm saying_ is that you're letting him back in too easily," Tony snaps, and thinks, _and I'm fucking scared for you, Shakespeare, I don't know what he's going to do to you now._

They are both quiet for a while. Loki's gaze turns cold, calculating; a small sneer twitches the upper right corner of his lips.

"You're jealous, aren't you, Stark? That's your problem, isn't it?"

As always when confronted with something that irritates him, Tony immediately goes for his sarcasm. "Yeah, jealous, that's right; I'm jealous of your emotionally and physically abusive ex, the man who basically ruined your entire first semester as a sophomore in college and who probably would've killed you if given half the chance—"

"You are jealous of the hold he has on me; something you cannot even _begin_ to comprehend or hope to achieve yourself." This is a lie, of course; Loki regrets it the instant it comes out of his mouth. He's pushed too far and he knows it; he can see it in the way Tony's eyes shift and darken, in the way his jaw twitches. They are quiet again, but it's slightly different this time; heavier, more definite. At last, Tony turns, so that Loki can't see his face anymore.

"Maybe we should take a break, then," he says. "See what kind of _hold_ one of us has on the other in a few days."

Loki flinches, because he can hear the raw pain and hurt in Tony's voice, buried beneath the arrogance and the sarcasm. He reaches out a hand; hesitantly puts it on Tony's arm. "Stark, I didn't—"

"Just don't, Loki," Tony interrupts, jerking away from his long-fingered grasp, and when he walks away Loki lets him.

Backstage is completely silent; the only sound penetrating through the thick walls is the faint ringing of a class bell upstairs. Loki sinks back against the brick wall, his head in his hands, and lets the tears come as his self-hate begins to manifest again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this. And for everything else that's coming. 
> 
> Sorry. So sorry.


	27. Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair

And then it's the night of the play, and Loki has to pull himself together long enough to recite his lines onstage to an auditorium full of people who probably do not give a shit about Shakespeare, _Macbeth,_ or anything else except when the intermission is so they can go get a snack and maybe sneak in a quick fuck before the next act starts. He stands backstage, waiting for his cue; watching the bright lights following the players. He doesn't really get nervous until Thanos comes up behind him, long robes trailing on the floor.

"Ready to rock their world?" Thanos whispers into Loki's ear, as if he has any right to be that close to him, and Loki jerks away, gripping a nearby table to steady himself. Thanos frowns slightly, but before he can ask what's going on, the three witches say:

_"Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine; and thrice again, to make up nine. Peace!—the charm's wound up,"_ and Loki and Thanos go out, facing each other, faking like everything's okay between them. Loki is so tense he's shaking a little bit, and he's pretty sure—judging from the expression on Thor's face—that everyone can see it. His eyes trail to the spot on Thanos' cheek where Tony punched him; it's caked over with makeup, but still a little visible, and Loki can't help but smile to himself as he starts:

_"So foul and fair a day I have not seen."_

They make it through the entire play without incident, but Loki can't really focus. During the scenes he has with Tony, he barely manages to hang on to his composure; keeping himself from breaking down in front of everyone is a skill Loki has achieved over the years, but it's never become any easier. By the time the curtains come down and the audience begins to applaud, Loki feels drained, exhausted. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get some of the fake blood out; the cast bows, and they go backstage.

Thor and Jane are waiting for Loki when he comes out of his dressing room; Thor is grinning from ear to ear, and Loki raises his eyebrows. "So you approved, then?" he asks, and Thor nods, engulfing his younger brother in a hug.

"You were _brilliant,_ Loki," he says. "I am most proud of you, brother."

More people are crowding around the cast now, congratulating them on plowing through Shakespeare without forgetting their lines or their stage directions. Frigga and Odin find their sons and walk over, and Loki tenses up, wrapping his fingers tighter around the water bottle he's holding.

"Mother," he says, and she hugs him tightly.

"Your acting is really coming along, Loki," she says. "I had no idea you had become so talented."

He knows it's a compliment, but for some reason, it still feels like an insult. Still, he half-smiles at her, then turns to Odin, whose one eye is narrowed disdainfully in the direction of a few students who can't seem to keep their hands off each other. "What did you think of the play?" he asks, keeping his tone full of contempt. "Was it to your liking, or do you still disapprove of my acting?"

Frigga has to elbow Odin in the side to get him to respond, and even then he seems distracted. "Yes, yes," he says, though he doesn't sound sincere at all. (Not like Loki was expecting any sincerity from the man, but still, it would've been nice for him to act at least _decent_ tonight.) "Very enjoyable. I'm sure time will tell whether you are truly cut out to go into that profession."

Thor glares at Odin for a few seconds, then claps Loki on the shoulder. "As I have already stated, I thought you were wonderful," he says, and there's no mistaking the love in his eyes. Loki smiles faintly, and is starting to think maybe tonight won't be so bad when Odin abruptly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small cardboard box.

"Thor, Jane," he says. "I know it is not quite Christmas yet, but I thought perhaps you would not wish to wait." He opens the box and pulls out a set of car keys, shining silver and chrome in the light. "After much debating, I have decided to let you two move in together. These are for your new car. It's waiting in the parking garage, next to ours."

Loki steps back, mouth slightly open. Tonight _he_ performed, _he_ played Macbeth, _he_ endured three hours of Shakespeare and having to make eye contact with both Thanos _and_ Tony, and yet _Thor_ is getting a reward?

He wonders why he feels so surprised.

Thor's mouth is open too, but for an entirely different reason. "A car," he repeats, taking the keys and palming them, handing them to Jane so she can look at them.

"And we signed the first lease on your apartment," Odin adds, gesturing at himself and at Frigga.

Thor's delight is evident. He hugs his parents, and seems to have forgotten completely about Loki, who is standing against the brick wall now, feeling a bit like crying, a bit like falling down and giving up. When Thanos walks by, still in his full costume, and sneers at him—for no apparent reason—he can't even bring himself to react.

"We can go look at the place tomorrow, if you wish," says Odin. "Tonight you and Jane are welcome to stay at my house."

"Thank you, Father," says Thor. He is still beaming, but when he glances at Loki, his smile falters slightly. "But what about my brother? Doesn't he get something?"

Loki waves his hand and shakes his head. "It's okay," he says—and he's a spectacular liar but even he cannot keep the catch out of his voice then.

"Loki has already received the reward of performing a play and performing it well." Odin's tone is decisive. "He didn't screw up—which, I have to admit, is surprising—and neither did anyone else. That is his present."

"In my opinion, tangibility is what determines a present, Father," says Thor, talking back for the first time in his life.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Odin snaps. "It's time to go. Thor, you and Jane may follow Frigga and I home. Loki, you will ride with your brother." He turns and walks off, and after a few seconds of hesitation Frigga, Thor, and Jane follow him.

Loki sighs, glancing around. He sees Tony in one corner of the room, talking to Natasha and Clint and Bruce and laughing, the fake jewels in his costume rings glinting in the light as he waves his hands around. Since their fight, he and Tony have only spoken when it's absolutely necessary—at rehearsals, or if one of them is going to be late coming in the room. His heart aches, and he swallows hard. For a moment, Tony glances up and their eyes meet, dark brown on emerald. Loki thinks Tony will say something, but he turns away again, shaking his head slightly before opening his mouth to respond to Natasha.

"Fuck it," Loki mutters, and storms out after his so-called 'family'.

/

Tony considers walking out after Loki—considers, but doesn't act on it. He's still angry about what Loki said three days ago—how _dare_ he say that Thanos' hold is stronger than Tony's?

He thinks of the way Thanos looked at Loki onstage tonight, like a hungry animal, and he wants to tear his hair out. He's still worried as hell about Loki—not to mention he's a little afraid for himself. Before the play, Thanos had come up to Tony and said:

"I've been looking forward to this night with you for a while now," which made no sense, because Banquo and Macduff have almost no scenes together; and Tony and Thanos aren't friends. Still, he'd cranked up his usual fake smile, clapped Thanos on the shoulder, and replied:

"Same, Death Shirts. Makeup looks good, by the way," and he'd tapped the area of Thanos' face where the bruise is before walking off. It wasn't until Tony was in his dressing room putting on his costume that he realized how odd Thanos' voice had sounded when he'd said _this night with you._

"So you and Loki still aren't talking?" Natasha asks him, bringing him out of his reverie.

"No," says Tony. "I'm surprised Thor hasn't killed me yet—"

"Thor probably knows it was Loki being an ass this time," Clint interjects.

_Yeah, well, I shouldn't have walked away from him, all the same,_ Tony thinks, frowning at his hands and tensing his muscles because he will never say those words out loud, not in front of them. Natasha looks at him strangely, like she can tell what he's thinking, but all she says is:

"Get back with him if you want, Tony; I mean, it's your choice, but honestly? You two have only really been happy this past month."

Tony hesitates, then sighs. "Yeah, well, _happiness_ isn't really something I've ever allowed myself too much of." He stands, stretching; picks up his laptop case and textbooks, which Bruce brought over from he and Loki's dorm room. "I'm gonna go home."

"See you after the break," Clint calls after him.

Tony heads out, his head swimming; walks towards the parking garage. It's late and it's dark, and he stumbles a few times in the snow that's begun gathering on the sidewalks. He's not looking forward to spending Christmas alone—since his heart attack, Howard's decided to stay with Jarvis and his wife, out in the country, until he feels up to going back to work—but it's not like he has a choice. He pictures the grand mansion that waits for him, cold and dark and silent, and he smiles grimly to himself.

If he'd said a few things differently, he'd be spending this holiday season with Loki instead.

"Merry fucking Christmas, you bastard," he whispers, breath frosting in the night air, and goes into the parking garage.

He's nearly at his car when an all-too-familiar voice stops him. "Tony, can I talk to you for a second?" It's Thanos, and Tony winces, his heart pounding. He's suddenly acutely aware of how empty it is in the garage.

"Thanos, what's up?" Tony turns and leans against his car, elbow brushing the nick in the paint where he accidentally scraped against a tree branch trying to get out of a parking lot after robbing a liquor store. "Better make it quick; I have to get home, get drunk, and pass out in front of the fireplace. Christmas tradition, you know."

"I'm sure," and now Thanos is doing that creepy smile thing, and Tony curls his fingers against his car keys. "This will just take a second, okay?"

"How come you're still in costume?" Tony asks, suddenly noticing the maroon-colored robes Thanos is wearing. "I'd think you'd wanna switch back into your morbid shirts as soon as possible."

Thanos twitches his fingers against his side. "I find these clothes to be very comfortable. Anyway, this isn't what I wished to speak to you about, Tony. I wish to speak to you about Loki."

"Six feet tall, black hair, hypnotic emerald eyes, cheekbones you could cut yourself on; really great taste in music and books," Tony says, slightly sarcastically. "Yeah, I know all about my boyfriend."

"Except he isn't really your boyfriend anymore, is he? You broke up with him three days ago."

"How the fuck do _you_ know about that?"

"I have my ways," Thanos replies, smirking, and Tony has a sudden vision of small black devices being planted around the college, while Thanos sits in his dorm room with his earphones plugged into his laptop, listening and watching through thousands of tiny webcams. It's a startlingly clear image, and it sends chills up Tony's spine.

"Okay, well, aside from being really fucking weird, you're also wrong; Loki and I are taking a break. We had a fight; despite what you might think, it didn't involve physical violence. Not everything requires that, you know—"

"Shut up, Tony," Thanos interrupts, and he reaches into his robes and pulls out a small handgun.

_"Fuck,"_ Tony breathes. The space in the garage seems even bigger, suddenly; he imagines universes that are smaller than this. He wants to run, he can see the entrance, with light streaming in from the streetlamps, but his legs won't work. His fingers close around his cell phone in his back pocket, but Thanos grabs his arm and wrenches it forward again, twisting almost hard enough to break the bones. A sneer curls his upper lip, and he raises the gun so that Tony is staring straight down the barrel.

"Finally," Thanos murmurs, in an almost serpentine whisper that makes Tony wonder if Thanos is actually the devil himself. "Silence."

/

Loki, Thor, and Jane arrive at the house a few minutes after Odin and Frigga, and get out of the car, hauling their books and laptop cases out of the trunk. It's a nice car, really—Loki wishes he wasn't so jealous of Thor, but he can't help it. He carries his things up to his room, dumping them on the bed and shutting his door, ignoring the soft knock and the call of, "Brother?" a few moments later. Let Thor worry. They have two weeks of holiday left; he can be alone this one night.

He stretches himself out on his bed, sighing softly, staring at the ceiling. He wonders what Tony's doing; wonders if he misses him. Maybe they'll talk tomorrow; Tony _did_ say 'a few days', after all, and Loki's pretty sure the future engineer misses him.

When his cell phone rings, he almost jerks it out of his pocket, half hoping it will be Tony. But it's Natasha, and he can feel the disappointment rushing into his chest. He thinks about hitting 'ignore' but then decides against it; maybe Natasha and Clint are with Tony right now, and she's just calling to invite him to come out and join them.

"Hey, Nat," he says, hitting the green button. "What's—"

The sound of her crying stops him mid-sentence. Natasha never cries; she didn't even cry when she and Clint split up for a little while the summer after their junior year of high school, at least not in front of anyone. Fear climbs up his throat; it tastes sour and makes him break out in a cold sweat. "Natasha…?"

"Loki," she says, her voice shaking. "Loki, you have to come to the hospital. It's Tony. He's been shot."


	28. This is as Good a Place to Fall as Any

Thor and Loki speed the entire way to the hospital, ignoring traffic regulations and swerving around long lines of cars. Twice, Thor almost crashes into someone's back bumper; Loki's sitting up in the passenger's seat, gripping his knees so hard his knuckles have gone white. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, but he seems unaware of them. Thor opens his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes to his mind that's appropriate. All Loki can think is, _this is my fault; I should have spoken to him, I should have told him I was sorry and I should have said he could come home with us, Odin be damned._

If Tony dies, Loki will never forgive himself.

The emergency room is buzzing, crowded with people. However, unlike before, when Loki came with Tony and Jarvis to see about Howard, there is a sense of urgency, of panic. They locate Natasha, who is standing off to the side with Clint, and run over to join them. Clint has a bloodied handkerchief pressed to his nose. His other arm is wrapped around Natasha's shoulders; both of them look exhausted.

"What _happened,_ Natasha?" Loki demands, feeling sick and terrified all at once; on the edge of tears.

Natasha swallows. For the first time since he's known her, she doesn't look completely confident, completely sure of herself, and that scares him almost as much as hearing her cry.

"A few minutes after Tony left the auditorium to go home, Clint and I decided we might as well head out too, so we followed him to the parking garage. At first we didn't see anything odd going on, just Tony walking up to his car; he didn't see us, so we headed for the elevators. But then Clint heard Thanos talking, so we decided to go back and see what was going on—because we knew that Thanos and Tony talking couldn't be a sign of anything good.

"By the time we got to them, Thanos had forced Tony to the ground and was kneeling over him, the gun pressed against the back of his head. He was yelling about something—you, I think—and Tony was elbowing him, trying to get up. Clint and I started to go help him but Thanos held the gun up to us and said if we took one more step, he'd shoot all of us—including himself.

"After he knew Clint and I wouldn't move anymore—although, frankly, I have no idea how he knew we weren't going to pull something—he lowered the gun and rolled Tony over; told him he was going to kill him and then come and take you for his own. 'The way it should be' is how he put it. Tony asked him how he was going to get away if Clint and I were still alive, and he said, 'Oh, don't worry, I'll take care of them too'.

"Then he started beating Tony with the gun, just smashing it into his face, his ribs, anywhere he could reach. Tony was fighting back—at first—but I guess Thanos knocked him out because he went limp. I called 911; Thanos was distracted so he didn't see me. Clint ran up to him and grabbed his arms to haul him off Tony, but he smashed the gun against Clint's nose—hence the handkerchief. Clint fell, and I ran up, but as I was going, Thanos… he… shot Tony. In the chest.

"Not too long after that, I managed to wrestle the gun away from him—I took Taekwondo when I was younger—and while I was applying pressure to Tony's wound Clint held Thanos down and called the police. Unfortunately, Thanos fought back; we tried to knock him out but I swear to you, Loki—he _wouldn't go._ It was really odd. By the time the police and the ambulance got there, Thanos had wrestled his way out of Clint's grasp, and because Clint was trying to help me keep Tony alive he couldn't run after him. We tried shooting his ankles but the gun was empty." She takes a deep breath, pausing; Loki can see the tears brimming in her eyes, and knows how much self-control she is using to keep them from falling.

"He knew exactly what he wanted to do tonight. That's why he only had one bullet in the gun. That's why he was still wearing those goddamn robes after the play. The police have his DNA from the gun and are on the lookout for him, but they aren't sure they can find him—especially since he's not listed anywhere in the city. I mean, he doesn't have any family to speak of—he doesn't even have a known last name. They're investigating Berkeley's records, but—"

"Natasha," Loki interrupts. "I _don't give a fuck_ about Thanos right now—I need to know how Tony is. Is he alive?"

She glances at Clint. "He was when we arrived here in the ambulance twenty minutes ago."

Loki swallows, shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks at Thor, who is clenching his jaw, evidently furious. (Thor has always been pretty horrible about hiding his emotions, and for once Loki is glad of that.)

"Can we see him?"

Natasha shakes her head. "They have us waiting here until—well, until more news of what's going on with him comes out."

Loki knows why she paused—the next news they hear could be that he's out of the ICU, or that he's dead. "Did you say Thanos shot him in the _chest?"_

"People who get shot in the chest can survive," says Clint quietly. "I heard about this war vet—had a bullet in his heart for about fifty-eight years before they found it and took it out."

"This is my fault," says Loki to himself, ignoring Clint and staring out of the window at the snow, which is falling in soft zigzag patterns, swirling against the dark night sky, gathering in clumps on the windowsills. "If I hadn't—"

"Loki, don't," Natasha says, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Don't, okay? Thanos is a psychopathic asshole. None of us could've known what he is capable of when we first met him. You have no responsibility in this. None whatsoever."

"She is right, brother." Thor nods, biting his lower lip. "You did not know that Thanos was going to try and kill Anthony."

As if on cue, Loki's cell phone rings. He hesitates for a second before pulling it out of his pocket, eyes snapping from Thor's face to Natasha's to Clint's before settling on the screen. It's Thanos—of _course_ it's Thanos, that fucking bastard, and how _dare_ he call Loki _now,_ of all times? Shaking, partially from rage but partially—although he hates to admit it—from fear, he hits the green 'talk' button and snaps:

"What the _fuck_ do you want with me?"

Thanos is laughing maniacally on the other line. He must be on the side of a road somewhere, because there's the sound of cars rushing in the background. "Do you like that little trick I pulled in the parking garage?" he asks. "What do you think of me _now,_ huh?"

"I think you are a sociopath; I think if I _ever_ see you again, I will have you arrested so fast you won't have time to blink."

"Disappointing answer, Lo'," Thanos says, and it sounds almost like he's chiding him. "Your voice is shaking; you aren't _crying,_ are you?"

"You just shot my boyfriend, you—"

"Ah, Lo'… it's not like he's dead. Besides… this will give you a few weeks alone. You can think about _us._ About getting back with me, maybe next semester?"

"You're insane," Loki hisses, and he hangs up and turns his phone off. He leans against Thor, who is being uncharacteristically silent. Natasha pulls another handkerchief out of her back pocket and hands it to Clint.

No one says anything for a long time.

Finally, just when Loki's leaned against the wall and is—against his will—drifting off into an uneasy sleep, the doors open and a doctor comes out, walking towards them. Instantly Loki is awake again, awake and wide-eyed.

"You two came in with Tony Stark, yes?" the doctor asks, pointing at Natasha and Clint.

Natasha nods. "But they're here for him too," she says, gesturing at Loki and Thor. The doctor glances at them, a grim expression on his face.

"Are you the boyfriend?" he asks Loki, who nods, fear rising up in his chest again.

"Has he been asking for me?"

The doctor hesitates. "I'm afraid… well, he was shot in the chest. He suffered major head wounds, as well as three broken ribs and a punctured lung. We got all the bullet shards we could out of his right atrium, but…" He sighs. "We cannot move in further without seriously risking his life. We have temporarily closed his chest up and brought him out of the anesthesia… so he can say good-bye to whomever he chooses. He happened to mention you first."

"Good-bye?" Loki repeats softly.

"In case he doesn't make it," says the doctor, gently, but Loki already knew that's what he meant. His heart racing, he asks to be taken to the ICU where Tony is.

"It's a special privilege to be let into the ICU if you aren't injured," the doctor says as they head up in the elevator. He's probably trying to lighten the mood slightly, but Loki's not listening. All he can think of is how young they all are, how very _young._ No one should die at twenty. No one should have to say, "Let me see my boyfriend before I go," at twenty. No one should be shot in the chest in an almost empty parking garage at twenty.

Loki is afraid he won't make it in time to say good-bye; that he loves Tony, more than he will ever love anyone again.

The elevator dings, and they get off. The ICU is surprisingly small compared to the way it looks on television shows, but Loki doesn't notice. He grabs a mask off the metal table at the entrance, straps it around his nose and lips, and runs to the bed. Tony is lying on it, hooked up to several beeping machines. His chest is sewn together with black string; bruises and cuts litter his face, his ribs, a bit of his stomach. The shards of bullet are in a small plastic container near the scalpels and other operating instruments. Tony's eyes are shut, but when Loki approaches they open, and a small shadow of his old smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, Shakespeare," he says hoarsely, and Loki doesn't try to fight the tears that start spilling down his cheeks. He reaches out and takes Tony's hand in both of his, squeezing gently.

"I heard what happened," he says. "Tony, I'm—"

"Hey," Tony interrupts. "Don't apologize, okay? Thanos is a freaky guy anyway; we should've all seen this coming. I mean, who the hell would want to wear those damn robes offstage unless they were hiding a gun?" He laughs, then coughs, and his eyes slide partway shut.

"I meant I'm sorry about what I said to you." Loki takes a deep breath. "You… I cannot imagine life without you, Tony. I said Thanos has a stronger hold on me than you do, but that's a lie. It's you. It's always been you."

The smile flickers again. "Leave it to you to get all sentimental at my deathbed," he says quietly, but Loki can tell he's thinking. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes again, and looks up.

"I love you, Loki," he says. "I never said it when we were in high school, I never said it when we got back together this year, and I'm an idiot for it, so I'm saying it now. You probably knew already, you're so goddamn smart, but I fucking love you, Shakespeare. I will always love you." He's crying now, too, and Loki holds his hand tighter, tasting the salt of his tears as they run across the seam of his lips.

"I love you too, Tony," he says, shakily.

Tony opens his mouth to say something else—probably something witty, something to try and dispel the fear swelling up in Loki's chest—but a sudden expression of pain crosses his face. He clenches his jaw; sweat breaks out on his forehead. His grip on Loki's hand tightens; the heart monitor speeds up, the beeping increasing until it's nearly deafening.

The doctor who came up with Loki comes rushing into the room from the hall, nearly shoving the dark-haired man out of the way as he leans over Tony's bed with his scalpel and several other instruments which Loki does not recognize. More doctors are entering, pulling on gloves and face masks, joining the first one.

"His BP's dropping!" someone shouts, and Loki knows that's not good.

"Crack open his chest!" says someone else.

Loki stands pressed to the wall, paralyzed, not knowing what to do. Should he stay, should he go, should he—

Then the heart machine flatlines.


	29. Götterdämmerung

Tony goes under, and his mind dances, skirting the edges of memories and falling, falling, falling into the darkness. He sees himself, at age seven, in his father's workshop, messing around with the gadgets, the tools, until Howard comes in and slaps his tiny hands away from the screwdriver. He cries, and Howard slaps him again—this time on the face—and tells him to 'man up'.

Age ten, and he's the only person under thirty-five attending his birthday party. Howard pushes a glass of whiskey into his hands and says, "You're old enough now, I was your age when I started drinking, and what your mother doesn't know won't hurt her"—and then, two days later, learning of her death, and wondering if perhaps she _did_ find out and killed herself because she couldn't have a failure for a son.

Age fourteen, leaving middle school, getting cornered by the biggest guys in his graduating eighth grade class after the ceremony. They ask, "Where are you going, geek boy?" and he leans against the brick wall of the building and says, "Farther than any of you—oh look, there's your girlfriend, Randall, why don't you go ask her exactly _how_ far I can go?" He comes home bruised and bloodied and Howard, who couldn't even attend the graduation because of his company, barely glances up from his paperwork, just long enough to ask why Tony took so long getting home.

Age fifteen, entering his sophomore year, catching the eye of the strikingly attractive new student in his Chemistry class. He walks over and sits next to him, turning on the charm, asks, "And what's your name?" The new guy looks him over—his eyes are the color of emeralds, sharp and glittering—and holds out a long-fingered, pale hand. "Loki," he says. "Like the god." _Well, this should be interesting,_ Tony thinks, taking his hand and lightly brushing his thumb against the back of his knuckles.

Age seventeen, stretched out on a hot plastic inflated sheet, trailing his hand in the pool water below. He glances over at Loki, who is balancing himself upside-down on the diving board, and a grin stretches his face. He paddles over one-handed to his boyfriend and tugs him in the water—Loki comes up spluttering and wet and laughing, pulls Tony in the water as well. Their kisses taste like chlorine and beer. Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" blares on the radio. Sunlight reflects on the water, on their exposed shoulders.

Age eighteen, graduating high school, wondering why Howard couldn't show up to this one either. Jarvis is there, with his wife, but Howard's not, and Tony thinks this is just the end of the line of a lifetime of mishaps, of failed parenting. He walks across the stage, receives his diploma and makes the valedictorian speech, pretends he doesn't notice the way Loki is looking at him, the sneer that curls his upper lip. Hates that, of everyone attending, his ex is the only one who knows that every word spilling from his mouth is coated in falsehoods.

Age nineteen, finishing up his freshman year at Berkeley, acing his Physics I final; astounding the professor with his twelve-page report in Biochemistry. He takes Pepper out for a drink afterwards, and sees Howard's reflection in the whiskey. He can't believe how far he's come, how much like his father he's grown to be, despite his valiant efforts not to. In anger, he smashes the glass on the floor, and Pepper has to drive him home, drunk and raving, the image of Loki's face flickering in the back of his mind.

He sees it all in quick succession, like someone speeding through a slideshow, and all the while the feeling of falling continues. A bright light appears at the end of a tunnel, and the feeling shifts from falling to soaring. Tony thinks of Lucifer in Milton's "Paradise Lost"—read to him by Loki one winter when they were alone for a whole weekend and the power went out—how he fell from grace, thought he was flying. _"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven,"_ Tony remembers, and stretches his arms out.

His mother appears at the end of the tunnel. Maria has not aged since she passed away ten years ago; in fact, if anything, she looks happier now, younger. Tony's descent—or is it his ascent, he still can't figure it out—stops in front of her, and she shakes her head, smiling.

"Tony," she says, pushing his hair back. "It's too early; it's not your time, sweetheart."

"Thanos shot me," says Tony. "He killed me."

Maria shakes her head again. "Go back. You aren't going to die, not today. Go back and be with Loki. Live your life. Become what you've always wanted to be." She pushes him backwards, and he's falling again—he's sure it's falling, now. He reaches his hand out and a flash of the young child he once was crosses his face as he calls to her one last time:

"Mom…" and then she's gone, and he's still falling.

He hears shouting, and it's growing louder with every second that he descends. He barely has time to register the feeling of something cold and metal on his chest before the shock of defibrillation jolts him back onto the hospital bed, his heart pounding again, pumping blood through his body. There's a loud, incessant beeping in his ears, but he can't focus on that when someone's yelling in his ear:

"Stay with us, Tony! Just hang on for a little while; we're going to fix you!"

His eyes flicker open and he sees Loki in the background—or maybe he's hallucinating, he's not sure. Then a doctor—he thinks it's a doctor—clamps something down around his nose and mouth, and shouts, "Let's move him to the operation room, quick, before his stats change again," and the last thing he's aware of before the anesthesia takes hold of him is the sound of Loki's voice—not a hallucination—rising in hysteria, shouting:

"Is he going to live? Tell me he's going to live!"

/

The first thing Tony is aware of when he wakes up is the feeling of something pressing down on his chest, right in the center, something heavy and metallic. He tastes—is that _gasoline_ —in the back of his throat, and has to work hard to keep from gagging. Automatically he tries to open his eyes, but the lights above him are too bright, and he squeezes them shut again, wincing. He runs his tongue over his front teeth, breathes in deeply. The taste of gasoline begins to dissipate.

"Ah, I see we're awake," says an unfamiliar voice beside his left ear, and he cracks open his eye enough to see a doctor, dressed in white robes and wearing a lavender hospital mask, sitting next to his bed, a clipboard balanced on his knee.

"Lavender," is the first word out of Tony's mouth. Talking hurts, like someone scraped a knife down his throat, serrated edge first. "You picked the color, or was that the choice of your boss?"

The doctor laughs a little. "Standard issue, Mr. Stark," he says, taking Tony's arm and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around it. The fabric encloses against his skin, against a bruise Thanos left, and Tony winces, gritting his teeth. The pressure in the center of his chest increases slightly, and for a second he thinks he's going to have a heart attack—but then the cuff relaxes, and the pressure is gone.

"So what's up with my ribs?" Tony asks, opening both eyes now and jerking them down in the direction of his chest. "It feels like you've got some sort of _thing_ inside of me."

"Not just any _thing,"_ says the doctor, and pushes open Tony's hospital gown so he can see the raised metal edges of a round device in the center of his chest, glowing a gentle shade of blue, like a laptop or a phone. Tony raises his eyebrows, running his tongue over his teeth again. "This is an electromagnet in the center of your chest, Mr. Stark. It works like a pacemaker, or like a metal detector."

"I have a metal detector in my chest?"

"Not precisely. You—"

"I am a walking magnet. So what, do refrigerators just cling to me now? Because honestly, I wouldn't mind that."

The doctor laughs in the way that someone laughs when they're trying to be polite, and Tony lets his head fall against his pillow, trying to keep back the rise of annoyance in his chest.

"No, Mr. Stark, you're not a walking magnet. That thing, in the center of your rib cage, that thing is literally an electromagnet. It is keeping the bits of bullet still lodged in your heart from puncturing the artery walls—and killing you. You'll have it for the rest of your life—but rest assured, you won't have any problems with it." He pauses, then smiles. "Except maybe in airports."

It isn't funny, and Tony rolls his eyes, still annoyed. "Yeah, but isn't this sort of thing impossible? I'm a physicist, I know, this isn't—"

"You're one of the first patients we've been able to use this device on." The doctor looks proud of himself, but all Tony can hear is, _guinea pig._ "It won't hurt you. It will act like a pacemaker, but you won't feel a jolt to your heart if you're going too fast—it'll just hold the shrapnel back and keep you going. In effect, Mr. Stark, that electromagnet is keeping you alive."

Tony sucks in a deep breath. _This is fucking insane,_ he thinks, and runs one finger over the surface of the object. "I died, you know," he says, after a bit. "I died, and I saw my life flash before my eyes. And when that was going on, the person I saw, more than anyone else, was Loki. I intend to keep him, doctor. And I'm sure he intends to keep me." Tony locks his eyes onto the doctor's. "This electromagnet… it won't keep us from being able to be together, will it?"

"No," he says, though he won't meet Tony's eyes directly. "No, of course not." He stands up and runs his hands down the front of his robes. "Loki's out in the hallway. I can go get him if you're ready to have company."

Tony nods. His head is starting to hurt from the brightness of the lights, so he shuts his eyes.

If he focuses, he can actually feel the electricity pumping through his veins, into his heart.

About a minute later, Loki comes rushing into the operating room. There's a huge smile on his face; he looks happier than Tony's seen all semester. "Stark," he breathes, rushing and kneeling down next to his bed. "Tony…" There are tears coursing down his cheeks; he strokes Tony's jaw, his chin, the curve of his neck. His fingers ghost over the electromagnet, and both Loki and Tony feel a slight tingling rush through their nervous systems.

"Hey, Shakespeare," says Tony. "Feels good to be back." He's not sure if he's talking about being alive or being with Loki, but it all seems to mean the same thing at this point.

The younger man laughs softly, shakily. "I've missed you too," he says, before leaning in and kissing him softly, ignoring the doctor who is still standing in the corner with his clipboard, trying to hide his smile.


	30. Ragnarök

Loki stays as long as he can, sitting beside Tony's bed, holding his hand, but after a while Tony's eyelids start to drop. He catches himself stifling a yawn and glances up at the clock—three a.m., and when did _that_ happen—so he rubs his forehead, stands up. He gives Tony's hand a light squeeze— _see you in the morning, love_ —and heads out. The doctor on duty tells him that Tony will probably be able to be released later in the week, either on or just before Christmas itself, and Loki thinks how _perfect_ that would be. He smiles the whole way down to the first floor, and is still smiling when he walks into the emergency room. Thor is waiting for him; Natasha and Clint left when they heard Tony had managed to come back after the defibrillation.

"Brother," says Thor, urgently. "Is Anthony—"

"He's alive," Loki nods, and decides not to try and explain the electromagnet just yet. He's not even sure if he gets it himself—a circular magnet in the center of Tony's chest, something glowing and humming faintly with an energy all its own.

If he's going to be completely honest with himself, he's a little scared for Tony. (Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, because Tony would probably just laugh and make some sarcastic comment about how Loki worries too much, but still. He's pretty sure that whatever's in that device can't be good for Tony's bloodstream.)

They head home. The streets are nearly empty at such a late hour, and Loki leans his head against the cool glass of the passenger window, staring at the sky, at the faint swirls of snow still drifting down. When Tony is out of the hospital, he promises himself, they will go for walks in the snow until their cheeks are flushed with cold; they will drink hot chocolate; they will sleep in together, sharing the blanket and missing class sometimes just because.

_I will never take you for granted again,_ Anthony Stark, Loki thinks. _I will trust you with my life._

/

A few days later, Tony is still in the hospital—although he's seriously considering filing his own discharge papers and walking out, because he's _bored_ and he wants to go home and have Loki over for Christmas dinner and tell him how much he means to him—and then he wants to fuck him, because he still can, even with this electromagnet in his chest. He's lying in bed, running one finger over the smooth metal edges of the machine, keeping the other hand wrapped loosely around the remote control— _Doctor Who_ is on, but the commercials are shit—when there's a soft knock at the door.

"Tony," calls his primary doctor, the one who fitted him with the electromagnet, the one to whom he owes his life. "You have a visitor."

He thinks it's Loki, and a slight grin stretches over his face as he mutes the television and shifts his position on the mattress. "Tell him he can come in," he calls, twisting the edges of his robes around with his fingertips. He's actually surprised at how well Loki's been taking this whole electromagnet thing—he'd thought, initially, that once the relief of having Tony alive wore off Loki would realize that his boyfriend is now a freak, and would get away from him as soon as possible, but Loki comes to the hospital every day and stays for hours; acts like everything's normal, like Tony's not hooked up to so many intravenous machines, like he's not glowing constantly beneath his hospital gown. (Pepper came, once, the day after it happened; Tony's not sure how she heard, but she came, and stayed in the doorway the whole time, staring with a mixture of fear and disgust at the electromagnet. _'Have you satisfied yourself that I'm alive yet?'_ he asked finally, and she just nodded and ran off without saying goodbye. The others—Steve, Nat, Clint—like coming just to stare at it, and even though Tony knows they don't mean anything by it, he still hates it, and has taken to faking exhaustion just to get them out of the room.)

The door opens, and Tony's eyebrows rise almost to his hairline, because it's not Loki at all. It's Howard Stark.

"Anthony," says Howard. He steps forward one pace, then stops, hesitating. It's the first time Tony's ever seen his dad at a loss for what to do, and he has to admit it's a nice change.

"Finally decided to come see me, huh?" Tony says, and he can't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Howard shuts his eyes for a few seconds; passes his hand over his face. "I couldn't just leave my work," is his excuse, and Tony wishes his electromagnet had some sort of special powers so he could shoot his dad with a laser beam, or at least zap him with a bolt of lightning.

"I guess if I'd died, you wouldn't have been able to leave your work either."

"Anthony, don't start—"

"You think you're suddenly a great father just because you were 'able to make time' to come see me in the hospital after I got fucking _shot in the chest?_ What do you want, Dad, some sort of medal?"

"Don't take that tone with me," Howard snaps. "I had to drive three hours to get here from Jarvis' place, you know. I could have just as easily stayed home."

"I didn't have to ride up to the hospital after you had your heart attack, but I did. I came up here to make sure you were okay—a man who does not give a shit about his own son. Why'd you really come here, Dad? Was it to see how I'm doing—or was it to see what sort of a freak they've made me into?" He opens his hospital gown up enough so that his father can see the electromagnet, and doesn't fail to notice the way Howard's eyes widen, the way he steps back slightly. A small, self-deprecating smirk passes over Tony's lips.

"Now you have an excuse to disown me," he says. "But wait, that's right, you won't—you need someone to inherit the company name once you're gone."

There's a vein pulsating in Howard's temple; his masseter is clenched so tightly that Tony can see it from where he's sitting. "I didn't disown you when you came home with that freak boy Laufeyson—"

"Oh, _now_ you're admitting that same sex relationships are grounds for automatic expulsion from the Stark family, I've been waiting for this day—"

"—and I wouldn't disown you just because you have some sort of machine in your chest." He pauses, dragging a hand over his chin. "Actually, I have a friend who might be interested in looking at that—"

"Because having a son who's an exhibit in the local science fair has always been your dream, hasn't it, Dad?"

Tony watches Howard's fingers twitching against his thigh as he struggles not to walk over and slap his son. Both men are quiet for a long time. Tony becomes aware of the ticking of the minute hand on the clock. _Doctor Who_ switches to a rerun of _Sherlock._

Finally, Howard clears his throat, straightens his suit. "I suppose I should be going," he says. "This visit has not done anything but prove that you and I will never get along."

Tony's eyes darken. "At least you came," he mutters, but Howard doesn't hear him, and a moment later the door clicks shut.

An hour later, Loki comes for his daily visit, and Tony can't explain why he's still crying.

/

He's discharged the following day, on Christmas Eve, by the doctor who saved his life. The man is smiling as Tony walks out of his room—he refuses to sit in the wheelchair, or use crutches, and Loki cannot stop squeezing his hand and thinking, _how characteristic of you, Stark_ —and as they stand at the elevator doors and wait to be taken down, the doctor taps Tony on the shoulder.

"Live a full life, Mr. Stark," he says. "Promise me this."

Tony nods. Then, for reasons he can't quite articulate, he hugs the doctor. "Thanks again, Dr. Yinsen," he mutters into the man's ear. "Have a great Christmas—give your family lavender hospital masks. Think of me when you use the refrigerator."

Yinsen laughs, the elevator pings, and Loki and Tony step on and head down. They go to the Stark mansion in Tony's car—which Loki drove to the hospital—and spill inside, shivering and laughing in the cold. Once the door is shut, Tony pins Loki to the wall, trailing hungry, hot kisses down his pale, exposed throat. Loki wraps his arms around Tony's waist, and almost smiles when he feels the way Tony is shaking, how desperate he is for contact.

"How I have missed this," Loki murmurs. Tony grunts in agreement, and they move to the couch, fumbling and kissing and subconsciously avoiding the electromagnet, sliding their hands across each other's skin, slick with sweat, trembling with want.

Later, sitting up on the floor, wrapped in a giant flannel blanket, mugs of hot chocolate pressed in their hands, Chopin playing softly on the stereo, Tony presses his nose against Loki's skin. The glow of the magnet has increased in the darkness, and it reflects like moonlight off Loki's bare shoulders, makes his eyes look almost blue. They don't say anything for a while, just stare out the window, at the snow gathering softly on the ground, but after a few minutes Tony turns to Loki and asks:

"You okay, babe? You look—I don't know, _tense."_ He shifts slightly, lifting his hands and pressing his thumbs into the muscles making up Loki's upper back. The younger man lets out a quiet sigh, moving back into his touch and shutting his eyes.

"It's just…" He hesitates, and Tony nudges him slightly with his toe.

"Just…? C'mon, Shakespeare, this electromagnet didn't give me psychic abilities."

Loki's lips twitch. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you again," he says quietly, after a bit.

Tony works his fingers against Loki's shoulders, curling them around his long, dark hair. "You won't," he says. "I don't know if I told you this, but when I died in the hospital my life flashed before my eyes and I saw you more than anyone else."

"Only about a thousand times," Loki murmurs, but he's smiling.

"Yeah, see?" Tony nudges him again. "So now you know—you mean a lot to me, Loki. Don't ask me to say it too often, though."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to hope for too much."

Tony grins, then shifts himself some more, so that he's facing Loki completely. The electromagnet glows softly between them as he lifts one hand and tucks his fingers under Loki's jaw.

"Serious answer," he says, locking his eyes onto Loki's. "I told you I love you in the hospital, and that still stands true now. You aren't going to get rid of me that easily, Shakespeare," and he leans in and kisses him again, more gently than before.

When they pull away, the clock is striking midnight. Loki leans against Tony and lightly kisses his neck. "Merry Christmas, Stark," he murmurs.

"Yeah, you too, Laufeyson," Tony replies quietly, running his fingers through his hair and thinking of how lucky he is, how desperately he wants it to work out this time. He can no longer imagine life without Loki, and he knows that means feelings, which Tony Stark has never done—but he figures maybe, just this once, he can make an exception.

In the morning, they are still wrapped up in the blanket together, one of Tony's arms draped across Loki's waist, Loki's fingers curled elegantly around his.

/

A thousand miles away, in an isolate forest in upstate New York, Thanos stretches out over the dank, leaf-covered ground and sighs, staring up at the dark branches, at the star-littered sky visible between them. Trees in winter have always reminded him vaguely of skeletons, with the way they shed their leaves and then stand, bare, exposed, all winter. He lifts a leaf and holds it up near his face for a few minutes before ripping it to shreds with his long fingers and tossing the pieces aside.

He watches the wind scatter them.

Thinks of Loki, of Tony, back in Manhattan; of all the destruction he's caused.

Looks down at his shirt, the one that reads, _'the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'._

Laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, my good people, is the last chapter - of this story. There is a sequel coming soon(-ish). 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone, on both this site and ff.net, who have supported me throughout this endeavor! You're all lovely people and I would give you cake and cookies if I had the money to bake and ship that much food.

**Author's Note:**

> Just putting this up from ff.net because I actually love AO3 and finally got an account and yeah.


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